


Bow & Sword

by 00AwkwardPenguin00



Series: Table of Kings [1]
Category: Brave (2012), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Gen, HappilyMarried!Hiccup/Astrid, Mostly HTTYD-Movieverse, Older Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, Parents Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III & Astrid Hofferson, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow build Hiccup/Merida, because I need to populate this dang universe, multiple character deaths, with some Book!characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-20 19:08:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 38,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9508022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/00AwkwardPenguin00/pseuds/00AwkwardPenguin00
Summary: Five years after Hiccup becomes Chief of the Hairy Hooligans of Berk, the entire Barbaric Archipelago is turned upside down. Forced to flee for their lives, a heartbroken Hiccup leads the surviving tribes of the Archipelago south, settling a stone's throw from the Kingdom of DunBroch. As the two young leaders of the wholly disparate cultures learn about each other and themselves, the force that destroyed Hiccup's homeland returns to finish what it started.





	1. Hagalaz

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic has been over two years in the making, and if you've read my Table of Kings: Vignettes, you know that it went through a complete plot rewrite. That plot overhaul is complete, but the prose itself is only a quarter of the way complete. However, I felt that I was far enough ahead to justify posting the first chapter here for y'all, so here it is!
> 
> Fair warning: I take and discard elements of the HTTYD book, film, and TV canon as I desire. I've never read the books, nor have I seen the various TV series, but I have scoured the HTTYD Wiki many times over the course of writing this story. If anything seems odd or not in canon, please let me know!

They came out of nowhere, rising from the pre-dawn mist like _dragur_ bent on chaos.

Eret and Skullcrusher were the first to fall, shot out of the sky before anyone knew what had happened. As they fell, the Rumblehorn’s dying scream rending the air, the former trapper shouted out one final order to his men with his last breath.

_“Alert the Chief! Berk is under attack!”_

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third was ripped out of sleep by Skullcrusher’s death scream. Curled up at the foot of his and Astrid’s bed, Toothless was stock still, eyes wide in the darkness, before leaping to his feet and racing down the stairs to the main room of the Haddock hall. A knot formed in the young Chief’s stomach, and he turned to wake up his wife.

“Astrid!” He shook her shoulder roughly before grabbing his prosthetic and strapping it on.

Astrid Haddock was awake in an instant. “Hiccup? What’s wrong?”

“Dunno, but I thought I heard a dragon scream, and then Toothless took off,” he said, pulling on a tunic. “I’m gonna gear up and see what’s going on.” He donned his armor in record speed, grabbed his swords and helmet, gave Astrid a quick kiss, and raced down the stairs after his dragon.

Toothless was waiting at the bottom of the stairs with his gear, and was oddly still as Hiccup quickly fitted the mechanical tailfin and saddle.

“What’s going on, bud?” Hiccup murmured, trying to scratch his best friend in his favorite spot and getting rebuffed. Toothless’s muscles quivered with tension as Hiccup checked everything over, and his earflaps were pressed back against his head. A sub-audible growl vibrated in Hiccup’s chest, increasing his own apprehension.

He jumped out of his skin when something pounded loudly on the front door of the hall, and Toothless’s growl tripled in volume. Hiccup eased his knife out of its sheath on his forearm, and hid it against his leg as he opened the door.

A young rider, barely out of his teens and white-faced with terror, leaned exhaustedly against his juvenile Changewing and gasped out, “Chief Hiccup… attack… Berk’s under attack! Harbor!”

The knot in Hiccup’s stomach pulled taunt, and he put away his knife. “Get home and protect your siblings, Weedsprout,” he ordered. “Go now!”

“Aye Chief!” the boy replied, dragging himself into his dragon’s saddle and holding on for dear life as the Changewing flapped away.

“Astrid! Take Disa to Mom, and meet me at the harbor!” Hiccup shouted. “Full gear, you and Stormfly!”

“You got it, Hiccup!” Astrid’s voice replied from the loft, wide awake and iron-hard.

Hiccup jammed his helmet onto his head and raced outside, Toothless on his heels. After a quick last-minute check of the gear, he mounted up, and Toothless barely waited for the tailfin to engage before he lifted off and raced for the harbor.

Ahead of them, sounds of battle were echoing up from the cliff-ringed harbor, and the knot in his stomach tightened again as they soared over the water, and he got his first look at the force attacking his island.

At least twenty of the largest warships Hiccup had ever seen were clustered at the mouth of Berk Harbor, with three more already weighing anchor inside. As near as he could tell, judging by the shields crammed on each side, each ship was filled to capacity with warriors, in addition to the same kind of bola cannons Drago Bludvist had used five years before to trap dragons. These cannons were different, however… a cannon fired, and a Scuttleclaw screamed as it fell, a huge shaft of iron protruding from its chest, its rider pinned to the saddle as a barbed point erupted from his back. Hiccup fought down the urge to throw up and directed Toothless down to where he could see Snotlout and Fishlegs and their dragons on the ramparts. Both turned when Toothless came in to land, and Hiccup jumped down and flipped up his mask.

“Snotlout, what in Odin’s name is going on?” He demanded.

“Aside from the obvious, it looks like someone’s pissed the Hel off at us, Chief,” the dark haired man drawled. “From what Fish and I can see, we’ve got at least twenty five ships on our doorstep, full to capacity and armed to the teeth.”

“Any idea who they are?”

“Nope,” Fishlegs sighed, pulling on his blond beard in frustration. “I don’t recognize their sigil.”

“Gods damn it,” Hiccup muttered. “I’ve got a really bad feeling about this. Fish, you and Valka start evacuating the village. Take everyone to Blackheart Bay and get the emergency ships ready. I want you guys to be able to shove off at a moment’s notice.”

“Aye, Chief!” Fishlegs barked. He hauled himself up onto Meatlug’s back, and the pair buzzed off back to the village.

“Snotlout, signal the troops. We need to give Valka and Fish as much time as we can.”

“Aye, Chief,” Snotlout nodded, mounting Hookfang. The pair ducked and weaved as they flew over to the enormous horn used for signaling during dragon races, dodging the huge iron harpoons that the enemy kept firing. Hiccup barely heard the signal for riders to assemble as his mind worked frantically to find a solution to this mess.

“Hiccup!” Astrid’s voice cut through the whirling chaos of his mind, as she appeared beside him, armor clad and axe in hand. She had a second weapon, which she handed to her husband. “I thought you might need this,” she explained as she buckled a quiver of bolts to his belt while he strung the crossbow and marveled at her foresight.

“You’re a genius, Milady,” he murmured, kissing her temple just below her _kransen_.

“What are we gonna do, Hiccup?” She murmured back. “There’s so many of them… and those harpoons…”

Instead of addressing her directly, Hiccup gave her free hand a squeeze before turning to address the riders gathered on the rampart behind him. The knot in his stomach tightened again—last night his warriors numbered 500 dragon-rider pairs, and now, less than an hour before dawn, they had been reduced to less than 450.

“Fishlegs and Valka are evacuating the village, but they need time,” he began. “We’re going to give them as much time as we can. I’m going to see if they’ll talk to me, but in case they don’t: Changelings, situate yourselves around the harbor, get as close to the ships as you can, and melt them down. Gronckles, stay up high, try and aim for the harpoon cannons. Scuttleclaws, you’re going in low and fast, as close to the waterline as possible, try and get those ships burning. Everyone else, we need chaos and confusion, and for Thor’s sake, do not get hit with those harpoons! Alright everyone, get into position while I go see what our oh-so-very-polite guests want. If things go sour, you’ll know, and that’ll be your cue to come in. Everyone clear?”

Everyone nodded, and Hiccup slung his crossbow over his shoulder and gave Astrid a searing kiss before mounting up. He and Toothless lifted off, and Hiccup pushed everything away to focus on helping Toothless dodge the harpoons being fired at them as they approached the foreign ships. As they drew closer, the harpoon-cannons were switched out for crossbow bolts, until a voice roared, _“HOLD YOUR FIRE!”_

The rain of bolts stopped, and Hiccup directed Toothless to land on the deck of the nearest ship. They were met by a group of warriors decked out in basic leather armor and war-paint, and Hiccup bit down on his instinct to draw his sword as the muscle-bound men sneered at him and Toothless, flipping up the visor of his helmet instead.

“Chief Hiccup the Innovator,” growled a deep, basso voice. “What a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

The group of warriors parted, and a huge man in dirty, rusted, dull iron chainmail approached, blond hair stiff with salt from the ocean falling loose around his face and down his back. A deep scar stretched down from his hairline, crossing his eye, and continuing until it disappeared into his thick blond beard. An enormous sword was strapped to his back, a double-bladed axe hung from his belt, and a spear clenched in his meaty hand thumped against the ship’s deck with each step he took. Cold gray eyes swept the forms of the dragon and rider up and down, and Hiccup had to force himself not to shiver and wish for Washday.

“You have attacked my island without provocation,” Hiccup declared, forcing himself to meet those frigid, dead eyes square with his own. “State your name and business, and we can talk like civilized men.”

The huge blond warrior laughed, and the hair on the back of Hiccup’s neck stood on end at the sound. “I am Dyrvaldr Blarmunr, Chief of the Mad Marauders,” he announced with a grin that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a Whispering Death. “And my business is rather obvious, I would think.”

“Enlighten me,” Hiccup bit out.

Dyrvaldr chuckled. “You have had dealings in the past with the late Drago Bludvist,” he said. “I am just carrying on his good work—without repeating his mistake.”

“Oh, I gotta hear this,” Hiccup sneered. “Drago’s biggest mistake was being _completely freaking nuts_. I’d love to hear how you’re gonna avoid that if you’re bent on following in his footsteps.”

Toothless suddenly let out a loud, terrifying growl, wriggling around wildly. Hiccup drew his crossbow and twisted around to aim at one of Dyrvaldr’s warriors, who was holding a knife to the main cable of Toothless’s prosthetic tailfin while three others held the tail still and the natural fin closed.

“Careful with that mouth, boy,” Dyrvaldr growled. “Your precious lizard is crippled without that one little string. One wrong move or word and… well, you get the idea.”

Hiccup grit his teeth, and lowered his crossbow. “Easy, Toothless,” he whispered, giving the Night Fury’s neck a pat as he returned the weapon to its holster on the saddle. “Keep still, bud. We need to wait for the knife to disappear before we can make a move.”

Toothless rumbled discontentedly, but subsided, fixing a poisonous green gaze on Dyrvaldr.

The rogue Viking snarled right back. “Drago’s mistake was involving those Hel-damned creatures,” he declared, thumping the butt of his spear against the deck of the ship. “He had the power to wipe them all out, and he wasted it trying to _use_ them. The only use for these monsters is to decorate the walls of my hall with their heads!”

 _Wow, this guy’s a few eggs short of a clutch_ , Hiccup thought, biting his lip as the warriors around him cheered in agreement with their chief.

“Have you been having issues with the dragons on your island?” Hiccup asked carefully.

“Not anymore,” Dyrvaldr growled.

Hiccup carefully didn’t think about what that meant. “Then what’s your problem? We Hooligans are a friendly tribe, you didn’t have to go to all this trouble to get our attention.”

Dyrvaldr grinned his Whispering Death grin again. “I disagree, Chief Hiccup. This is exactly what I needed to get your attention. Your Hairy Hooligan tribe has made a name for itself for being… difficult.”

“What can I say? We’ve got stubbornness issues,” Hiccup shrugged.

“You’re going to need to get over those quick, if you want your tribe to survive.”

Hiccup blinked. “Run that by me again?”

Dyrvaldr snorted. “And they call you a genius,” he sneered. “It’s very simple. Surrender your dragons and chiefdom, and your people live. Refuse, and every man, woman, and child on this island will die on our swords.”

Hiccup swallowed down the sudden urge to vomit. “That’s… very ambitious of you, Chief Dyrvaldr,” he said evenly. He shifted as minutely as he could, and felt Toothless respond. “I wish you luck.” In a single fluid movement, he snagged Inferno’s handle from its holster, slammed the visor down on his helmet, and sprayed the Zippleback gas. The warriors holding Toothless’s tail down jumped back with shouts of alarm, and Toothless lifted off. Hiccup lit the gas, and the explosion rocked the ship.

All at once, the dragons and riders of Berk attacked, swarming the ships from all sides. The ship that Hiccup had blown up was scorched and burning, but still afloat, with warriors firing harpoons and arrows with no attention paid to the flames licking at their feet. Hiccup spotted Dyrvaldr using his spear to pole-vault onto another ship by jamming it into the back of a passing Scuttleclaw, driving the weapon in deep and ignoring the poor dragon’s scream of pain as his shifting weight moved it around within the wound.

Breathing deeply to force back his gag reflex, Hiccup directed Toothless to join the main “distract and harry” force, taking advantage of their own speed and maneuverability to avoid the huge barbed harpoons.

“Toothless, we need to take out those cannons!” He growled. Toothless snarled in agreement, and they began dive-bombing the ships, Toothless firing at every harpoon cannon he could see as they got in range. Hiccup would’ve gotten out his crossbow and helped, but the speed at which they were diving and lifting had him all but plastered down flat to the saddle. Toothless was a better shot, anyway.

The burning ship finally sank, dragging the men still on it down into the water, but those able to swim struck out for the docks. Hiccup caught Astrid’s eye, and she nodded and gave Stormfly a signal. The Deadly Nadder let loose a huge torrent of bright yellow, sparking flame at the docks, and at the scaffolding that connected them to the ramparts. The damp wood immediately caught under the intense heat of Stormfly’s fire, and the entire structure was soon engulfed and burning quickly.

But it wasn’t enough. Dragons were dropping like flies under the onslaught of the cannon-propelled harpoons, and ships were entering the harbor faster than the Hooligans could sink them. Hiccup could feel Toothless shaking with exhaustion beneath him. They couldn’t keep this up for much longer.

“Astrid! Snot! Call a retreat!” He shouted to his wife and cousin. Astrid scowled in frustration, but complied, roaring for everyone to follow as she directed Stormfly up and away from the harbor. Snotlout didn’t appear to hear him—the dark haired man was screaming in fury, twin battle axes in hand, echoing Hookfang’s roars as the Monstrous Nightmare descended upon the ships.

“Gods _damn_ it, Snotlout!” Hiccup snarled, as harpoons and arrows tore holes in Hookfang’s wing membranes. Man and dragon were in perfect sync—Snotlout stood up in his stirrups and _jumped_ , as Hookfang ignited himself, turning into a free-falling multi-ton fireball. They hit the ship they were aiming for at the same time, and Hiccup had to force himself to turn away as his cousin and his dragon were cut down with brutal efficiency.

The other ships hadn’t even paused the attack.

Hiccup and Toothless herded the remnants of their force around Badmist Mountain to Blackheart Bay, breathing a sigh of relief as they finally got out of range of the harpoon cannons. He directed the exhausted Night Fury to land on an outcropping overlooking the beach, and the poor dragon had practically collapsed the moment his paws touched the rock. Hiccup dismounted and rubbed his friend’s neck soothingly, despite the horrible numbness spreading through him.

The wind shifted as the sun peeked timidly over the horizon, and Hiccup gagged at the stench of burning wood, leather, hide, and flesh carried on the warm summer breeze. He didn’t fight it this time, just yanked his helmet off and ducked behind Toothless and allowed his stomach to empty itself out of sight of his shocked and bedraggled tribe on the beach. His buddy wearily turned and crooned at him questioningly, and Hiccup slumped against the warm, midnight colored flank and ran a trembling hand through his sweat-soaked hair.

“I’m okay, bud…” He rasped, wishing he had some water to rinse his mouth out. “Oh, gods, Toothless… _Snotlout_ … Oh my _gods_...”

Toothless rumbled at him a bit more insistently, and Hiccup caved and stumbled back over to sink down between his best friend’s front legs, which the dragon wrapped around his shaking form. His head came down to tuck under Toothless’s chin, and he allowed the Night Fury to hold him as his body came down from the battle-fever.

Toothless’s warmth and rumbling purr soothed away the shakes, and finally Hiccup felt composed enough to join the rest of his people and figure out their next move. He reluctantly detached himself from his dragon and gave him a quick scritch under the chin.

“Thanks, bud,” he whispered. Toothless nuzzled him and crooned comfortingly, and Hiccup tried his best to smile in return. He then stood and stretched, cursing how his muscles had stiffened up.

The noise from the beach finally penetrated the post-battle fog, and Hiccup took advantage of his vantage point ( _wow_ was he loopy) and did a headcount.

The result made him want to cry. Only about half of Berk’s dragon-rider pairs had made it to Blackheart Bay. Out of 500 men, women, and dragons, only 250 had survived the attack. From the beach below him, screams and sobs resounded against the rocky walls enclosing the bay, as his people began to realize that their husbands, wives, brothers, sisters, sons, and daughters weren’t coming back.

The only consolation Hiccup could see was that every single non-combatant in his tribe was safe.

“Let’s go, Toothless,” he murmured, picking up his helmet and stowing it in the built-in compartment in the saddle. He mounted up, and they glided silently down to the beach.

Someone shouted his name, and suddenly he and Toothless found themselves completely surrounded by people, all shouting and crying, some in relief and joy, but most in grief. Hiccup dismounted and tried to get his bearings, but before he could, a shrill, familiar scream cut through the noise of the crowd and silenced it.

_“HICCUP!”_

The tribe parted to allow Astrid Haddock, face bright red and tear-streaked, to sprint up and tackle her husband to the ground, kissing him fiercely. Hiccup relaxed and let her, returning both the kiss and the overwhelming feeling of relief at finding her alive. He dimly registered everyone in the tribe laughing at them, but ignored it with the ease of long practice.

Astrid finally pulled back, both of them gasping for breath, and then her face crumbled and she started pounding on his breastplate with her fists, fresh tears streaming.

“You gods-damned _idiot_! Where the Hel were you?! Valka and I thought you’d gotten yourself _killed!_ ” She shouted. “Oh my _gods_ , I should kill you myself, you reckless, stupid, Terror-brained, impossible, gorgeous idiot of a man!” She kissed him again, hard and hot and dirty and _brilliant_ , then tore herself away and collapsed on his chest, sobbing.

Hiccup gathered her up in his arms and stood, speaking to the tribe over her head. “I can’t tell you guys how relived I am to see you all safe,” he began, ignoring how his voice was shaking. “Unfortunately, not everyone was so lucky. At my rough count, at least half of our brothers and sisters and their dragons have fallen in this morning’s attack. They died protecting our home, and for that I pray that they’re found worthy of Valhalla by the Valkyries.”

Everyone’s head bowed in acknowledgement of the prayer. After a moment, Astrid shifted in his arms, wiping her eyes and wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Who did this, Hiccup?” She growled.

Hiccup sighed. “He said his name is Dyrvaldr Blarmunr,” he said, addressing the tribe as a whole. “Chief of the Mad Marauders. He’s… really, really bad news. He wants to kill dragons—he wants to wipe them out completely. And he’s willing to destroy everyone and everything in his path to do it.”

Muttering broke out in the crowd, and Hiccup forced himself to continue. “He gave me an ultimatum—surrender the dragons and my chiefdom, and our tribe would be safe. If I refused… he would kill us all.”

The tribe was silent for a moment.

“I hope ya told that nutter where to stick that plan of his, Chief,” Mulch called out suddenly. “’Cause if ya hadn’t, I’d fancy a go.”

Hiccup couldn’t help himself—he laughed, leaning against Toothless with the force of it, feeling all of the tension drain out of him. Astrid scowled up at him.

“You’re an idiot,” she informed him tartly, as if he didn’t already know. “You thought we’d tell you not to pick the dragons over slavery? Honestly, Hiccup, it’s like you don’t even know your own people.”

Hiccup didn’t respond, knowing that she’d only deck him if he opened his mouth again. Instead, he kissed her temple, and addressed the tribe.

“It’s only a matter of time before Dyrvaldr’s forces overrun the island. We need reinforcements if we’re going to take our home back. We’ll go to Meathead Island, and I’ll ask Skur the Feral for help. Load up the ships—anchors aweigh in four hours!”

The tribe dispersed, and Hiccup let Astrid lead him to where Valka and Cloudjumper had bedded down. Curled up in her grandmother’s arms, a little girl with his reddish-brown hair and Astrid’s wide blue eyes played with a rag-doll Terrible Terror, waving it around in pretend flight.

“Disa, baby, look who I found,” Astrid called, and the little girl’s heart-shaped face lit up in delight.

“DADDY!” She shrieked, launching out of Valka’s lap and barreling at Hiccup. He grinned back and knelt down to catch her, lifting her up over his head despite his entire body screaming at him in protest.

“DISA!” He mock-shouted in return, whirling her around. “Did you take care of Amma Val and Cloudjumper while Mommy and I were busy?”

“Yup! Dart helped!” She chirped, holding up her rag-Terror. Then her little face grew serious. “Daddy, were you and Mommy and Toothy and Stormy fighting bad guys?”

“Yes, sweetheart, we were,” Hiccup answered plainly.

Disa looked around, and her frown ( _so_ Astrid) deepened. “How come Fishy and Amma Val made everyone come here? Didn’t you make the bad guys go away?”

Hiccup swallowed hard. “No, Disa, we didn’t,” he said. “There were too many bad guys, and not enough of us. I asked Fishlegs and Amma Val to bring everyone here because I wanted to make sure that everyone was safe. And I’m really glad I did, hatchling, because we couldn’t make the bad guys go away. Now we have to take a trip, and go ask the Meatheads to help us make the bad guys go away.”

Disa nodded solemnly. “Okay, Daddy. Can I ride with you and Toothy?”

Hiccup hesitated, and glanced at Astrid. She flicked her eyes over to Valka, and he did the same, nodding slightly when she pursed her lips at him. He turned back to Disa, who had watched the entire exchange with curiosity. “Sweetie, I think both Mommy and I are gonna be busy again, so I need you to watch out for Amma Val and Cloudjumper.” He had a flash of inspiration, and went on recklessly, “but you and Dart can come with me to talk to Skur the Feral and the Meatheads, okay?”

Disa brightened immediately. “Okay!”

“That’s my girl,” he said, grinning. “Now, give me and Mommy hugs, okay? We’ll see you when we can, but we’re going to be busy. Help Amma Val and be a good girl, yeah?”

“I will, Daddy,” Disa said, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. He laughed at her wrinkled nose. “You’re stinky, Daddy. Like Grumpy and Gobby.”

“I get no respect around here,” he grumbled as he kissed her forehead and passed her to Astrid. “None at all.”

“Yes, dear,” Astrid replied absently, nuzzling Disa’s cheek. “Be good for Amma Val and Cloudjumper, Asidis. I’ll see you before we sail.”

“’Kay, Mommy.”

Astrid reluctantly passed her back to Valka, who immediately distracted her with instructions to help her take inventory. Hiccup held out his hand, Astrid took it, and they strolled through the beach, talking to people, offering their condolences to wives and husbands, brothers and sisters, and sons and daughters of the fallen Riders. Hiccup had a new appreciation for his father’s position, as Chief in the last days of the Dragon Wars—he remembered Stoick the Vast doing this after every dragon raid. He knew the elder members of his tribe remembered, as well, and couldn’t stop the small wash of pleasure that flowed over him when they told him, each in their own way, that Stoick would’ve been proud of him. He knew intellectually that he’d done everything right: got the kids and non-combatants to safety, did his best to negotiate, and when it was deadly apparent that they were outnumbered and outmatched, ordered a full retreat to save the remains of his forces. But it was nice to hear that his father would’ve approved.

 

* * *

 

His tribe was the best in the entire Barbaric Archipelago. In less than two hours all six emergency ships docked in Blackheart Bay were loaded and ready to sail; Fishlegs had managed to grab not only the Dragon Manual, but the Book of Tribes and all six volumes of the History of the Hairy Hooligans, as well; and Snotlout’s widow Luta had tracked him down, made him tell her exactly how her husband had died, and then proceeded to tell him point blank not to blame himself—her Snotty had always said he and Hookfang were going to go out in “a flaming blaze of glory”, and she was happy that he’d gotten his wish.

“I do wish he’d waited a bit, but I guess the Norns had other ideas,” she sighed, placing a hand on her protruding belly. “Anyway, Hiccup, I’ll tell you what he told me once, a couple years ago, after you asked him to be your second. He told me, ‘Loots, I know I gave poor Hiccup Hel when we were kids, but I swear to Thor and all the Gods, I’d follow him through Ragnarok itself.’”

“And tell me the entire time the proper way to ‘kill something dead’,” Hiccup finished, grinning wanly.

“But of course,” Luta replied primly. “Best fighter in this whole tribe, my Snotty.”

Hiccup laughed, knowing that Luta knew how patently untrue that statement was, and she grinned back, unrepentant.

“You know that if you need anything, Luta, you just have to ask, right?” He said quietly. “Anything at all, and if it’s in my power, it’s yours.”

Luta’s grin dimmed into a small smile, and she patted his arm before waddling off.

“Chief Hiccup! Chief Hiccup!” A girl barely in her teens landed her Hobblegrunt a few _faðmr_ away, the poor thing bright blue and quivering with fright. The girl herself didn’t look much better, white-faced and wide-eyed with terror. “Chief Hiccup, they’re coming! A huge group of them, following the Eel Path! They’ve got harpoon-cannons!”

Hiccup reached out for the Hobblegrunt, letting him push his nose-horn against his shoulder as he stroked the dragon’s frill. “Shhh, you’re okay, Sunny,” he murmured. “Nettlebite, are you okay? Did they see you?”

“I’m okay, Chief,” Nettlebite replied shakily. “They didn’t see us, Sunny’s too fast. But those harpoons… Chief, Sunny and I, we flew over… over the harbor. The dead… those monsters just _left_ them there, where they fell, with those awful iron bars sticking out of them…” The girl’s face turned green, and she leaned over Sunny’s side and dry-heaved. Hiccup winced and patted her knee.

“Chief Hiccup!” A boy with brown hair sticking up in all directions raced up from the waterline, where his Tide Glider was waiting. “Chief Hiccup, Marauder ships are coming down the coast from the north! Four _vika_ away!”

Hiccup set his jaw, gave Nettlebite’s knee a final pat, and whistled for Toothless. Turning to the boy, he ordered, “Thugnose, tell Valka to start getting everyone on the ships, kids and hatchlings first.”

“Aye, Chief!” Thugnose yelped, turning on his heel and scampering off. Toothless bounded up beside Hiccup, and the chief gave him a quick scratch on the head as he issued his next order.

“Nettlebite, find Astrid and tell her to take the Smokebreaths and the Zipplebacks to cover the fleet’s rear.”

“Aye, Chief! C’mon, Sunny, find Stormfly!” The Hobblegrunt wheeled around and spread his wings, lifting off and flapping away.

Hiccup mounted up, absently noting the addition of three more crossbow-bolt quivers to Toothless’s saddle. “All Boulder Class riders! Boulder Class riders, to me!” He bellowed. Toothless roared, putting out his own call. Within moments, every Gronckle, Shovelhelm, Hotburple, and Snafflefang with a Viking rider was gathered around them, and the tiny part of Hiccup that still felt like fifteen year old Hiccup the Useless marveled at the fact that people were actually _listening_ to him.

“Marauders have been spotted on the Eel Path,” he said. “We need to seal up the entrance to the Bay by any means necessary. I don’t know how close they are, but they’ve got harpoon-cannons, so keep your distance. Let’s go!”

The group took flight, heading towards Badmist Mountain. The Eel Path, so called for the way it wriggled around the base of the mountain, descended into Blackheart Bay via a partially man-made staircase carved into the back wall. If they could destroy it, even partially, the Marauders would lose the only point of access to the beach where the rest of the Hooligans were pinned against the sea. Hiccup was under no illusions that the invaders would eventually find a way, but he hoped to have his people long gone before that happened.

He and Toothless kept watch at the top of the cliff, as the rest of the group wreaked havoc on the structure. Fishlegs led the demolition with an eye blessed by Loki himself—he left the first hundred _ells_ of the staircase alone, and directed everyone to dig in and _up_. By the time Toothless spotted approaching warriors, the staircase was gone, and Fishlegs was artfully arranging the pointiest rocks as a surprise for heedless rampaging idiots.

Hiccup whistled a signal to fall back, and everyone departed as quietly as they could. Hiccup went last, and was pleased to see that the beach was completely deserted. A particularly brilliant person had managed to use the water to erase all traces of human and dragon presence from the sand, and Hiccup smirked at the thought of Dyrvaldr receiving reports that the Hairy Hooligan Tribe had disappeared into thin air.

Unfortunately, the sounds of battle meant that they hadn’t gotten away as cleanly as Hiccup had hoped.

Hiccup urged Toothless faster, and they raced out of the bay to find their little refugee fleet under attack from a dozen Marauder ships. Astrid was at the front line, she and Stormfly screaming in defiance as they gracefully dodged harpoons and crossbow-bolts to bathe a ship in fire. Stormfly barrel-rolled over another ship, and Astrid stood in the saddle to strike out with her axe, felling warriors with a flash of silver.

 _Gods, she’s hot when she’s fighting_ , Hiccup thought, feeling a dopey smile cross his face. Toothless grumbled at him, a warning to get his head on straight before he got them both killed, and he gave himself a shake to refocus. Without conscious thought, he and Toothless swung around to hit the attacking fleet from the rear, using the trademark Night Fury speed and accuracy to take out the ships’ masts and cannons.

A cut-off scream ripped through Hiccup’s consciousness, and he jerked his head around to see Astrid and Stormfly seemingly frozen in midair, a harpoon spearing the Deadly Nadder through the chest, and nearly cutting the blonde shieldmaiden in half.

Time stopped.

Fire exploding in his right shoulder started the universe again, but Hiccup didn’t even notice the physical pain. Nothing registered except for the dull silver gleam of the metal, the bright red blood staining armor and scales, the wide blue and yellow eyes turning dull and glassy. Seconds turned into years, as his wife, his Valkyrie, his _Astrid_ , fell into the sea.

A Night Fury scream gave voice to the red clouding his vision, and his hands found the grips of the Dragon Blade and his Gronckle-Iron sword as he and his dragon bore down on the murderers’ ships. A blink, and sails were shredded and burning. A blink, and a mast exploded. A blink, and noxious green gas flooded a deck. A blink, and the gas was lit. A blink, and men were separated from their limbs, from their heads. He couldn’t see past the red haze, couldn’t hear anything but screaming, couldn’t smell anything but blood and smoke.

Five ships were burning. Three ships were sunk. Two were turning around.

Hiccup and Toothless climbed, preparing for another strafe. The Dragon Blade was cold, the gas cartridge empty. He snapped it back into its clip.

A shadow above them. Pain, radiating from the back of his head.

Darkness.

 

* * *

 

 

A jolt of pain racing through his shoulder woke him up, and Hiccup groaned as his entire body let him know exactly how much it hated him at that moment. His armor, flight suit, and prosthetic were gone, replaced with a pair of loose leggings fastened with a cloth belt. His right arm was bound tightly to his chest, keeping his shoulder immobile. He was lying flat on his back on a wooden bench, which was rocking in time with the sound of the waves against the wall.

“Hiccup?”

He blinked, and his eyes focused on the form of his mother, peering down at him worriedly.

“Mom?” He croaked out, surprised at how dry and raw his throat felt. A cup was pressed to his lips, water trickling into his mouth, which he swallowed down gratefully. All too soon, the cup was taken away, and Hiccup barely suppressed a whimper of discontent.

“Easy, love, let’s see how you keep that down before you have any more,” Valka soothed, brushing back his sweat-matted hair.

“Mom, wha’s goin’ on?” Hiccup mumbled. “Wh’m I?”

“What do you remember, Hiccup?”

Hiccup blinked, taken aback by Valka’s carefully neutral tone. “Uh…” A flash, and he felt his stomach turn over. “Berk… was attacked. Snotlout and Hookfang… Nettlebite saw Marauders… coming up the Eel Path… Fishlegs destroyed the entrance… Astrid…”

Metal gleaming dully in the morning light.

“Astrid…”

Blood, slick and red, dripping down pale yellow scales and pale brown armor.

“Astrid…”

Blue and yellow eyes, wide with shock, growing dull and glassy.

_“ASTRID!”_

His mother’s voice seemed to come from the other side of the world, as his own screams filled his ears, wrenching his shoulder and ripping his throat raw once more. The pain didn’t matter—Astrid was in trouble, he had to get to her. He was aware of hands on him, holding him down, and he panicked, thrashing and kicking blindly. He had to get to Astrid, she was in danger, _she needed him to help her…_

A low croon slid up from under the screams, growing louder as his own voice faltered and fell silent. Warm fishy breath bathed his face, and he blinked his eyes open to find Toothless peering at him worriedly, purring loudly. His best friend looked him in the eye, warbled sadly, and Hiccup knew.

His sobs, ragged and painful, echoed through the hold of the ship as he buried his face in Toothless’s shoulder, wrapping the arm not bound to his chest around the long, solid neck. Toothless pressed his chin gently against his back, returning the hug, and purred like rumbling thunder.

 

* * *

 

 

A growing patch of wetness was forming on Hiccup’s shoulder as he held Disa in his arms. Valka stood on his right, bow and nocked arrow in hand, while Toothless stood solidly behind him, and on his left, Gobber was reciting the ancient rites that were said whenever a warrior fell in battle. The number of dead was too great for every warrior to be called by name, so Gobber kept things general.

For the men: _"May the Valkyries welcome you and lead you through Odin’s great battle field. May they sing your name with love and fury so that we may hear it rise from the depths of Valhalla and know that you have taken your rightful place at the table of kings. For great men have fallen: warriors, brothers, friends.”_

For the women: _"May the Valkyries welcome you and take you into the circle of their sisterhood. May they sing your name with love and fury so that we may hear it rise from the depths of Valhalla and know that you have taken your rightful place at Odin's right hand. For great women have fallen: warriors, sisters, friends.”_

The six ships hadn’t been filled to capacity when they left—they’d lost too many for that. So the passengers of one of the ships, _Deadly Nadder_ , had dispersed themselves among the other five ships, and everyone had placed something of their lost loved one upon _Deadly Nadder’s_ deck. Hiccup had placed one of Stormfly’s spines, the only thing he, Disa, and Valka had left of Astrid and her dragon. Now, after Gobber had finished the rites, Valka stepped up, raising the bow. Toothless lit the pitch-soaked rags wrapped around the arrowhead, and Valka took a deep breath, aimed, drew, and released. The arrow thudded as it impacted the deck of the _Deadly Nadder_ , and was quickly followed by hundreds of others. Within moments, the _Deadly Nadder_ was engulfed in flames.

Hiccup felt his heart turning to ashes along with it.

 

* * *

 

 

Hiccup stood at the bow of the ship, watching as Meathead Island drew closer. Beside him, Toothless scented the air and growled, pupils slitting.

“Drop anchor,” Hiccup ordered quietly. The command raced down the ship to the stern, where the anchor was summarily thrown into the water. Beside and behind them, the rest of the fleet followed suit, until all five ships were dead in the water.

The crossbow-bolt wound in his shoulder throbbed dully, but he ignored it. “Scouts, survey and report.”

A handful of dragons and their riders rose from the ships and winged silently over to the island. Toothless gave a barely audible grumble, and Hiccup rested his good hand on his friend’s neck to calm him.

“I’m sorry, bud,” he whispered. “I wish we could go, too.”

Toothless’s sensor-crests went back, and he nuzzled Hiccup gently in apology, purring loudly.

The scouts were back in record time, and not with good news.

“The island’s completely deserted, Chief,” reported Gnarr the Gnasher, his normally fierce countenance unusually solemn. “Village is just a pile of cold ashes. Don’t look like anyone’s been there for a good bit of time.”

“Chief, Talonvine and I found this in a hollow tree near the site of the village,” Weedsprout piped up, holding out a messily folded piece of parchment. Hiccup took it and gently unfolded it, quickly reading the chaotic rune script.

 _LOST: 320 Horned Muttons  
__I_ _f found, please return to_  
_Thuggory the Stupid_  
 _Care of the Mangling Malignants_  
 _REWARD: 1 Talking Fishbone of Horrendous Size_

“Fishlegs, set course for Hopeless,” Hiccup ordered, folding the parchment back up and tucking it into his belt.

“Aye, Chief!” Fishlegs replied, and set about doing just that. Hiccup turned back to Weedsprout, who was staring at him with wide eyes, and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Great work, Weed,” he said, forcing himself to smile. “I’ve got another job for you, and it’s really important, but really, really dangerous. You can say no, and I won’t think any less of you.”

“What’s the job?” Weedsprout asked, brow furrowing.

“I need you to take a message ahead to Hopeless and give it to Thuggory the Stalwart,” Hiccup replied, gesturing for the boy to follow as he went to the sea-chest that held everything Valka had managed to grab from his hall on Berk. Gently shifting aside a small wooden box studded with black and blue scales, he found the notebook that had been sitting on his desk in their— _the_ bedroom. Turning to a clean page, he ripped it out, and grabbed a charcoal-stick. Closing the lid of the sea-chest, he used it as a writing surface.

 _LOST: 346 Hooded Hirsutes  
If found, please return to  
Hiccup the Useless  
Aboard the Dragonship _ Night Fury _of the North Birch Fleet_  
_REWARD: 1 Walking Mutton-chop of Insignificant Intelligence_

He carefully folded the parchment up and turned back to Weedsprout. “You up to this? It’s probably a good day and a half of flight before you get to Hopeless.”

“Talonvine and I can do it, Chief,” Weedsprout declared. Hiccup nodded, and handed him the note.

“You need to give that to Thuggory directly, understand? If someone says his name is Thuggory the Stalwart, and you’re not sure, ask him what he and I used to call the Bog-Burglars behind their backs. The answer should be “horned blonde sea snakes”. Any other answer, and you get away from that person as fast as you can, got it?”

“Aye Chief!” Weedsprout chirped, shaggy black hair falling into his eyes.

“Go now,” Hiccup ordered. “Tell Thug to expect us by nightfall in two days, Ran willing.”

“Aye Chief!” The teenager repeated, jumping into his Changewing’s saddle. The pair flapped off, Hiccup watching until they disappeared from view.

“Those two make me tired just watching them,” a female voice commented behind him, and for a single, blissful moment, Hiccup forgot, and was just about to tease her for getting slow in her old age, when a second voice beat him to it.

“Oh, I’m sorry O Ancient One, would you like me to fetch you a blanket to cushion your aching bones?” Tuffnut’s nasally drawl dragged Hiccup’s mind back to the present, and he forcibly restrained the accompanying flinch. Tuffnut went on, heedless of the older man’s discomfort. “Should I chew your mutton for you, to spare your old teeth? Do you need a cane to help you drag your rotting carcass around?”

“How about a cane to beat your ugly face in?” Ruffnut snarled, raising a fist.

“Guys, cut it out, please?” Hiccup sighed halfheartedly, rubbing at his forehead to stall the threatening headache.

The twins scowled at each other, but to Hiccup’s great surprise, no violence broke out. Ruffnut’s scowl softened into a frown as her gray-blue eyes scanned Hiccup’s face.

“You feelin’ okay, Chief?” She asked. “You don’t look so hot. I mean, you’ve always been a freckly bulb-nosed fishbone with the face of a brain-dead yak, but you’re not looking as freckly today.”

“Thanks, Ruff, you always say the nicest things,” Hiccup groaned, sitting down heavily on his sea chest.

“Dude, you know how much I hate agreeing with mutton-face over there on anything, but she’s right,” Tuffnut said, looking concerned (or constipated—it was such a rare expression on the man’s face that Hiccup really couldn’t tell). “You’re not nearly as freckly as you usually are when we’re sailing. Are you eating enough carrots?”

“Dumbass, carrots don’t make freckles!” Ruffnut snapped, fists on her hips. “Everyone knows that! Is your head stuffed with rocks?”

“Carrots totally make freckles!” Tuffnut snarled back, waving his arms like a demented Terror. “Don’t you remember Bork the Spotted? He ate so many carrots that the freckles took over his face and turned him orange!”

The twins sniped back and forth at each other, but Hiccup tuned them out, leaning his head back against the side of the ship and closing his eyes. _Just a couple of minutes_ , he told himself, _until the headache goes away._ He let the rocking of the ship carry him away.

**_He’s flying with Toothless over Berk, a routine patrol route they’ve done so many times that they could’ve flown it blindfolded. To his right is Valka and Cloudjumper, Disa squealing ecstatically in her grandmother’s arms. To his left is Astrid and Stormfly, his wife’s long blonde hair unbound and flying behind her like a golden banner. Her face is ruddy with the wind, and she’s laughing, the full, rich sound music to Hiccup’s ears. He can feel Toothless purring beneath him, and trusts his best friend to know where they’re going, because he can’t take his eyes off of the vision beside him, vibrant and alive against the endless expanse of sky and sea. He never wants this moment to end._ **

**_Clouds are gathering to the north, rolling in like a stampede of Gronckles. The ocean and sky turn red with the sunset, and unease fizzes up Hiccup’s spine._ **

**_Disa screams suddenly, a bone-chilling sound that has Hiccup reaching blindly for a weapon that isn’t there. He doesn’t panic—if they were really in danger, Toothless has a nearly unlimited number of plasma shots—but he turns to Astrid, who is never unarmed, even on their home turf._ **

**_An iron harpoon, glinting malevolently in the growing gloom, protrudes from Stormfly’s chest and Astrid’s back. The shieldmaiden’s arms are spread wide, as though she is waiting for Disa to run into them for a hug. Her eyes have rolled into the back of her head, leaving only wide, gleaming expanses of white. Blood pours._ **

**_Astrid falls._ **

**_Hiccup screams._ **

Pain bloomed on the side of his face, and Hiccup lashed out in response, connecting with something warm, smooth, and solid. His own screams echoed dully in his ears as he blinked his eyes open to find Toothless pressed against his side, and Gobber peering down at him worriedly.

Hiccup’s throat burned, and his headache had returned with a vengeance, coupled with his stinging cheek and the now constant throbbing in his shoulder. Toothless helped nudge him up into a sitting position on the sea-chest, and Gobber handed him a waterskin before sitting back on a nearby barrel and stroking his moustache. A quick swig from the waterskin soothed his throat enough for Hiccup to ask, “How long was I asleep?”

“A few hours, there ‘bouts,” Gobber replied, glancing up at the sky. Hiccup did as well, and discovered that night had fallen. It had been midday when he’d closed his eyes.

“Gods damn it,” he muttered, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. Toothless rumbled and nuzzled him, and Hiccup scratched the Night Fury under the chin.

“Yer dad had nightmares fer years after Val got taken.”

Hiccup blinked, and stared at Gobber incredulously. “He didn’t.”

“Aye, almos’ every nigh’, tha’ firs’ year er so,” Gobber sighed. “Go’ so bad tha’ Spitelout had ta put ye up fer a bit so I could get Stoick drunk enough ta sleep soundly wi’out worryin’ over whether ye’d be taken care o’. He never forgave me fer takin’ ye ‘way, but he needed th’ time. Gotta take care o’ yerself ‘afore ye can take care o’ anyone else.”

Hiccup swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna head to my bunk,” he mumbled. “Where’s Disa? I need…” He couldn’t finish the thought, but Gobber had a small smile on his face.

“I’ll send her ta ye when yer settled, Chief,” he said, and gave Hiccup a hand up.

 

* * *

 

 

** Hagalaz **

**Destruction**

_the act or process of damaging something so badly that it no longer exists or cannot be repaired_


	2. Naudhiz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very, very minor warning for implied violence towards dragons in this chapter, as well as slightly more overt cruelty to children. Sorry about that.

At sunset two days later, they reached the Island of Hopeless. Hiccup hadn’t slept for more than a few hours at a stretch for the entire journey, plagued by nightmares and an irrational need to keep his eye on his daughter at all times. Disa had enthusiastically welcomed the one-on-one time with Daddy, although bedtimes were challenging—Astrid had always been the one to comb out their daughter’s reddish-brown hair and tuck her into bed, telling funny stories about things she’d seen as the Headmistress of the Berk Dragon Academy until the little girl fell asleep. With Hiccup’s right arm still strapped to his chest to keep his healing shoulder still, he only had one functional hand, and Disa’s hair was as wild and windblown as Hiccup’s. After a prolonged tantrum in which Disa had refused flat out to let Hiccup comb her hair and demanded that Mommy had to do it, Valka had taken over, and now the routine was Valka combing while Hiccup sat within arm’s reach, listening to the three year old chatter.

But even with Disa tucked into his right side, leaving his left arm free to use the knife hidden under the pillow if needed, sleep for Hiccup was either riddled with nightmares or absent all together, and he could see the pitying looks everyone shot him when they thought he wasn’t paying attention. He’d have found it irritating, if he hadn’t been so exhausted.

The tall, barrel-chested warrior who met the Berkian fleet at the docks on Hopeless noticed immediately, despite the nearly year-long period since they’d last seen each other.

“Thor almighty, Hiccup, you look like Hel kicked you out!” Thuggory the Stalwart declared, hands on his hips and blue eyes traveling up and down the younger man’s form. He gave Toothless, hovering at Hiccup’s right shoulder, a courteous nod, which the dragon returned.

Hiccup grimaced, lifting Disa up onto his hip. She locked her legs around his waist and hid her face in his neck, and he rubbed his hand up and down her back. “So says you and everyone else,” he grumbled. “I see Weedsprout got to you.”

“That twig of a kid with the Changewing?” Thuggory asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Yeah, kid about ambushed me a day or so ago. The sea snake thing, really?”

Hiccup shrugged his good shoulder, prompting a grumble from Disa. “It was all I could think of at the moment,” he stated.

Thug’s bushy eyebrows lowered over his eyes. “C’mon, bro, let’s get you and the hatchling inside. You both look like you need about a hundred years of sleep. Where’s Astrid?”

Hiccup’s throat closed up, and he glanced down at Disa’s wide, watery eyes. He heard Thug murmur, “Oh, Hic,” and felt him place a gentle hand on his bad shoulder.

“I’m really sorry, buddy,” the older man said quietly. “C’mon, this way.”

Hiccup nodded numbly, and after shouting for Fishlegs to make camp wherever the Mashers told them, followed Thuggory up from the docks to a headland positioned directly parallel to the main village of Hopeless, where thousands of tents were pitched in groups designated by a tribal banner.

“Odin’s beard…” Hiccup breathed. It seemed like every tribe in the Archipelago was camped out on Hopeless. He could see banners from Bog, Bashem, Hysteria, Berserk… some of the tents looked like they’d been there for a while.

“Dyrvaldr’s been systematically taking over the Archipelago,” Thuggory explained, glowering. “He hasn’t made it this far south yet, but everyone knows it’s only a matter of time. Cnut the Mammoth wants to hold a Thing tomorrow, now that everyone’s here.”

“What about the Uglythugs? Has anyone heard from them?” Hiccup asked.

“According to Squatshot the Anvil, Knut the Red led the attack on Bashem, under Dyrvaldr’s flag,” Thuggory growled. They reached his tent, and Thuggory showed Hiccup inside and instructed him to take a seat on the bedroll in the back corner. Toothless tried to follow, but Thuggory took his life into his hands by stopping the Night Fury.

“Sorry, Sparky, no room for you,” he drawled. “Go find a nice tree to hang from, you overgrown bat.”

Toothless growled impressively at him, but the Meathead simply crossed his arms and growled right back. Hiccup would’ve rolled his eyes at the pair of them if he wasn’t seeing double already.

“Toothless, we’re fine,” he whispered, knowing that the dragon’s supernaturally keen hearing would catch his words. “Go do Alpha Dragon stuff for a while, bud. Disa and I are gonna sleep.”

Toothless crooned worriedly, but when Hiccup made a limp shooing motion at him, the Night Fury grumbled and backed off. With a final warning growl at Thuggory, Toothless slinked off, melting into the shadows.

“I swear, Hiccup, that giant bat of yours worries more than my own mother,” Thuggory said, untying the tent flaps and stretching them out so that they stayed closed. A small lamp filled with Monstrous Nightmare saliva was hanging from the center pole, dimly lighting the space, and Thuggory took it down and set it on the packed-earth floor next to the bedroll.

“Careful with that,” Hiccup warned drowsily. “Don’t wanna knock it over. Nightmares.”

“Hush up and go to sleep, Hiccup,” Thuggory ordered, not looking up from the shield he was polishing. His favorite broadsword lay within grabbing distance of where he sat on the ground, equal distance from the tent flaps and the bedroll, and for the first time since fleeing Berk, Hiccup felt… not safe. Not yet. But something close.

A familiar rumble sounded, and something warm and solid pressed against his back on the other side of the tent wall. A tightness in Hiccup’s chest that he hadn’t realized was there loosened, just a bit, and he fell asleep to Toothless’s rumbling purrs.

 

* * *

 

Disa hummed in Hiccup’s lap as she played with a ragdoll one of the Bog-Burglar’s had given her. When Hiccup had tried to get her to go with Phlegma the Fierce while he attended Cnut the Mammoth’s Thing, the three year old had screamed louder than a Thunderdrum for almost five minutes straight. Hiccup had wanted the ground to open up and swallow him, but Cnut himself had suggested that Disa come along to the Thing, even though she technically wasn’t allowed, being underage. When Hiccup had pointed this out, the older man had simply shrugged his enormous shoulders and muttered something about “extenuating circumstances”. Hiccup hadn’t been about to look a gift dragon under the wing, so after a extracting a pinky promise (the most sacred oath a little girl could make) to be very, very quiet, the pair had gone inside the Mashers’ Great Hall. Everyone had made a large fuss over Disa, even the Berserkers, resulting in the ragdoll and a secluded seat in the corner, close enough to the front that Hiccup could hear and be heard, but out of the way enough to allow them to make a discreet exit if needed. Such a perfect spot provided in the packed Hall was surprising in its thoughtfulness, since Vikings were not well known for being such, and Hiccup, being the youngest ruling Chieftain in the room, wasn’t high up enough in the pecking order to warrant such thought normally.

“Alright, alright, let’s get started!” Cnut the Mammoth roared, banging his meaty fist down on the table in front of him. Disa jumped at the sudden noise, but having grown up around huge, loud men, didn’t otherwise react. The Hall slowly grew quiet.

“So, we all know why we’re here,” Cnut declared, “so I’m not going to waste time going over it. The point of this meeting is to pool our information and figure out what to do about it. We’ll start with an accounting of each tribe present. Berserker Tribe, how many are you?”

Heather the Shrewd stood, tossing her long black braid over her shoulder. “The Berserker Tribe is twenty five warriors strong, with thirty four civilians,” she declared, green eyes flashing. “Hord the Brute, Chief of the Berserker Tribe, was executed by Dyrvaldr the Cruel when he refused to submit to Dyrvaldr’s rule. I am now Chief of the Berserkers, as elected by my tribe.”

“Understood, Chief Heather,” Cnut replied. The Mashers’ Lawspeaker scribbled down the numbers. “Outcast Tribe, how many are you?”

One by one, the Chieftains and Heirs present all reported the number of warriors and civilians. Hiccup felt his heart sink with each one. The last census had reported 5,775 humans living in the Archipelago. If Hiccup’s math was correct (and it usually was), that number had been cut nearly in half.

Disa drifted off as talk turned to defensive strategies.

“We can blockade the harbor, maybe even set traps further out to sea to keep the Marauders’ warships from landing,” Hak the Bludgeoner suggested, studying a map of the island.

“That won’t stop them from surrounding the island completely,” Camicazi the Cunning retorted. “Dyrvaldr’s crazy enough to play the long game. He said he wanted to completely wipe out every dragon in the Archipelago, he’ll have no problem waiting for the island to wear out supporting this many people.”

“So why don’t we just get rid of the damned dragons?” Orm the Rogue growled.

“Shut up, Orm,” Thuggory growled. “It’s not just the dragons, and you know it. This guy doesn’t just want to destroy the dragons, he wants to rule the Archipelago, even if he just ends up ruling over a kingdom of bones. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Orm grumbled, but subsided.

“Hiccup, did you manage to get a close look at those harpoon cannons?” Cnut asked.

Hiccup shook his head. “Not as close as I would’ve liked. If someone had managed to get hold of one, I could probably reverse-engineer it and figure out how to stop them, but right now all I can say is that I’ve never seen a projectile weapon that powerful. I have no way of telling how far the range on one of those things is, but my Riders have seen harpoons go straight through some of the most heavily armored dragons in our nest like they were straw.” He firmly pushed away the vision of Astrid and Stormfly speared by a harpoon, and thought hard. “Something that powerful… they’re either using springs or explosions, and springs are a lot harder to reset quickly. But explosions… they’re hard to control. I’ll bet my other leg that if you hit one of those cannons at exactly the right place at exactly the right time… but we have no way of determining where or when without at least one specimen to study.”

A horn sounded, and Cnut grinned fiercely. “If the Norns are feeling merciful, you may get one. We’ve got company.”

 

* * *

 

_Dyrvaldr must’ve chased us all the way from Berk_ , Hiccup thought desperately, as Toothless dodged harpoons and fired plasma blasts as fast as he could. Hiccup’s shoulder screamed in pain, but he had to keep the Marauders off of the civilians trying to flee the island. He had to keep Disa safe.

Hopeless was burning. The tent camp was burning as well. The warriors on the ground were being overrun, and dragons and riders were dropping everywhere.

“Hiccup!” Thuggory roared, directing his Monstrous Nightmare beside Toothless. “The last warship launched! We need to get out of here!”

“Go! Cover the ships! We’ll keep them off you!” Hiccup responded. Thuggory gave him a sharp salute and wheeled his dragon around. Hiccup and Toothless flew in wide circles, presenting a perfect target against the fluffy summer clouds to keep the Marauders’ attention on them instead of on the ships being frantically rowed away.

When one of the harpoons came too close for comfort, Hiccup knew it was time to go. “Up in the clouds, bud. Let’s scram.”

Toothless panted mightily, but managed to rise quickly and dive behind one of the huge white clouds without being shot. An updraft filled the huge black wings, and both Hiccup and Toothless sighed with relief as the wind carried them away.

“Okay, Toothless, I think we lost them,” Hiccup murmured hours later, as the setting sun turned everything crimson. “Let’s catch up with everyone else.”

Toothless groaned, but when Hiccup maneuvered the tailfin into position, the dragon dutifully responded, and the pair gently sailed down below the clouds.

Hopeless was gone, and the open ocean stretched endlessly below them. Hiccup scanned the horizon in every direction, looking for ships, praying that they would be Berkian or Meathead or Bog.

The sun slowly sank, darkening the sky and sea until the only light was the moon and stars. Toothless sailed along, riding thermals in his sleep. Hiccup had engaged the auto-fin hours ago, and was sprawled out along Toothless’s back, studying the constellations. They were further south now than Hiccup had ever gone before, but the stars didn’t seem any different than the ones over Berk. Thiassi’s Eyes straddled the Bifrost, and the Eagle chased Ratatosk away from Nidhogg. Frigga’s Spindle hung to the side, spinning peacefully.

The wind shifted, bringing with it a faint scent of roasting fish. Hiccup’s stomach growled loudly, and Toothless snorted awake, sniffing avidly.

“You smell it too, bud?” Hiccup rasped, turning himself around in the saddle. The Night Fury whined plaintively, just as Hiccup’s stomach growled a second time.

Hiccup chuckled, strapping himself in and disengaging the auto-fin. “Looks like it’s time for a midnight snack.”

A quick gearshift, and the pair dived down towards the ocean, following the delicious scent. A cluster of lights bobbed on the surface of the water, and Hiccup frowned as they came closer, unsure if the collection of ships was friendly or not.

Well, nothing for it. Sending a quick prayer to Loki for protection, he asked Toothless to fire a plasma shot up into the air. If the ships were friendly, he’d get an answering shot; if they weren’t, hopefully the bright lavender-blue comet would make the owners of the ships think twice about attacking.

The plasma bolt lit up the ocean and the ships in question as it arced through the air. For a split second after the blast faded, there was silence, until a familiar rumbling roar reached their ears.

“Cloudjumper!” Hiccup whispered, as Toothless roared exuberantly in answer. He barely had time to get the tailfin into position before the dragon dived down to the ships. Sheer numb relief spread through him as Toothless’s paws landed on the deck, and he barely felt the ecstatic shouts and slaps on the back and shoulders from the mob that surrounded the pair. He dimly heard Gobber and Thuggory shouting at everyone to get back, to give them space, and the rain of joyful blows ended. Gobber’s meaty arm wrapped around Hiccup’s shoulders as Thuggory unhooked the safety straps and his prosthetic leg from the saddle, gently rotating the cuff to switch out the riding attachment for the walking foot. Gobber pulled Hiccup bodily out of the saddle, gave him a rib-crushing hug, and set him on his feet.

“Hiccup!” The frantic voice of his mother caused Hiccup to turn so quickly that he nearly fell over—only Gobber’s arm still around his shoulders kept him from breaking his nose on the deck. Valka rushed up and threw her arms around his neck, trembling with silent sobs. They leaned on each other, as the other people on the ship dispersed to give them some privacy.

“I was so scared, Hiccup,” Valka whispered. “I thought I’d lost you, too.”

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Hiccup mumbled. “I didn’t mean to be gone so long.”

“Well, you’re here now, that’s what matters,” Valka replied, releasing Hiccup and running a hand through his sweat-soaked and helmet-flattened hair. “You’re going to have to make it up to Disa, though. It was all out war trying to get her to go to sleep without you.”

Hiccup grimaced. “Yeah, I imagine.” His dry, raspy throat tickled, and he coughed shallowly.

“Let me get you something to drink, you’re probably dry as a Gronckle’s knees,” Valka fussed, sitting Hiccup down on a nearby barrel and bustling off.

Thuggory sat down beside him, leaning back against the side of the ship. Toothless, divested of his saddle and rig, flopped down at their feet, wriggling on his back to erase the feeling of the leather and metal from his scales and skin. A few seconds later, rumbling growly snores filled the air, and Thuggory blinked in confusion.

“Did he fall asleep on his back?”

Hiccup was easing his prosthetic off and barely looked up. “Yeah, he does that if we fly for a really long time without a rest, or if he’s worn the rig for more than a few hours,” he whispered. His prosthetic slipped off, and he dropped it to the deck with a loud _thunk_. The only reaction Toothless gave was the twitch of a foot as it stood up in mid-air with the other three—the dragon’s snores didn’t pause at all.

Valka returned with a dripping waterskin and a small jug of ale. She handed Hiccup the waterskin first, cautioning him to take small sips so that his body didn’t reject it. After a few minutes quenching his own thirst, Hiccup took the ale jug and handed the waterskin back to Valka, who got to work bullying Toothless into waking and drinking some himself.

“How many escaped?” Hiccup asked quietly, taking a small sip of the alcohol.

“Almost all of the noncombatants, a little over three hundred total,” Thuggory reported. “Only a hundred and fifty or so warriors are left, though, and most of them are in no shape to lift a sword, much less actually fight. Lost both Cnut the Mammoth and Hak the Bludgeoner of the Murderous Mashers, as well as Orm the Rogue and practically the entire Hysteric Howler Tribe. There’s only dozen or so Hysterics left, all elders and young children.” He grabbed the jug from Hiccup and took a healthy swig.

Hiccup sighed, leaning back against the ship. “Have any of the surviving Chiefs or Heirs taken over?”

Thuggory chuckled darkly. “Hiccup, you’re the longest sitting Chief who’s still _alive_. Technically, you outrank all of the surviving Heirs, even Oddlief the Wild and Squatshot the Anvil. All of us former Heirs have only been Chiefs for a matter of weeks. You’ve been Chief of the Hooligans for five _years_. Nobody’s going to stand against you if they have the sense Odin gave a Terror.”

“I should still give everyone the option of voting me in,” Hiccup mumbled, taking the jug back and gulping down another mouthful of ale. “The Hooligans are the only tribe in which Chiefdom is hereditary, and even then, if everything with the dragons hadn’t happened, someone else probably would’ve been elected Chief.”

“That’s a good idea,” Thuggory agreed. “We can probably get all of that straightened out tomorrow. I’ll talk to the other Heirs, get them to address their tribes. There’s not enough of us left to stay divided like we were. We need to be united if we’re going to survive.”

Hiccup yawned and nodded. “You do that. I’m goin’ to sleep. Don’t wake me up for anything less than Ragnarok itself.” He shuffled down and stretched out on Toothless’s belly. The dragon snorted, but didn’t wake.

Thuggory grinned tiredly. “Aye, Chief.”

 

* * *

 

The Thing that took place the next morning was a quick and dirty affair, given that the remnants of the former Viking Tribes of the Barbaric Archipelago were spread across a dozen medium sized cargo ships in the middle of the ocean. Hiccup was elected Chief of the refugee Vikings by an overwhelming majority, with Disa as Heir, Thuggory the Stalwart as Second, and Fishlegs Ingermann as Lawspeaker. If Hiccup died before Disa was old enough to take over, Thuggory would serve as Chief until she was. The Bashem-Oiks had argued for their Heir, Squatshot the Anvil, to be elected, but were shouted down rather spectacularly by a coalition of Hooligans, Boggies, and Berserks, led by the terrifying triad of Ruffnut, Camicazi, and Heather.

Once the Thing broke up, Hiccup and Thuggory met with Fishlegs and Valka to determine where they were and where they were going.

“We’re heading due south,” Fishlegs explained, pointing to their approximate location on a huge map. “We’re coming about level with Iceland—with good winds we could be there in two, maybe three days.”

Valka shook her head. “If Dyrvaldr is coming after us, that’s the first place he’d go to find us,” she said. “Besides, the people there aren’t at all friendly to dragons—or friendly in general.”

“We’re in no condition to try and force our way anywhere,” Thuggory grumbled, stroking his beard. “And if we try to appeal for sanctuary, they’ll just laugh in our faces.”

“Let’s hear some other options, Fish,” Hiccup requested.

“There’s the Norden Lands,” Fishlegs said, pointing to the large tongue of land to the east, “and the Wilderwest,” he pointed to the huge island to the west.

“The Nordens are just as bad as the Icelanders,” Thuggory commented, “and that’s still too close to the Archipelago for my comfort.”

“And the Wilderwest is just ice, snow, and rocks as far as the eye can see,” Valka added.

“Then the only option left is Alba,” Fishlegs shrugged, pointing to the tiny island clinging to the bottom edge of the map. “It’ll take about a week or two to get there if the winds are good, but we should have enough supplies if we’re careful. The dragons can help with fishing and propulsion if needed.”

“Do we have enough water?” Valka asked.

“We’ve got one of Hiccup’s desalinators on each of the Berkian ships, so we essentially have an endless supply of water!” Fishlegs enthused, grinning. He looked like he was gearing up for a happy-geek rant, but Hiccup cut him off before he could start.

“Fishlegs, set course for Alba, and see if anyone’s got a current map of the island and any intel on whoever lives there,” Hiccup ordered. “I want as few surprises as possible. Thuggory’s right, we’re in no shape to have to fight for territory. Thug, I want lookouts posted at all times, watching for Dyrvaldr and his armada. Valka, I need you to determine how many dragons we have and what shape they’re all in. Have the fittest pairs rotate fishing duties, and the rest rotate fire-tending duties between the desalinators and the braziers. Let’s move!”

“Aye, Chief!” Everyone chorused, and then scattered to perform their tasks. Hiccup found Toothless sunning himself on the bow of the ship, Disa sitting on his back and playing with her rag doll and stuffed Terrible Terror. One of Toothless’s earflaps flicked towards Hiccup, and Disa cut herself off mid-babble and looked at the dragon anxiously. A gentle croon eased the girl’s tension, and Disa turned to see who had caught the Night Fury’s attention. Hiccup smiled as her large blue eyes, Astrid’s eyes, fell on him, and Disa’s face lit up.

“Daddy! Birna and Dart are gonna be pardners!” She squealed, hugging the toys to her chest with a huge grin.

“That’s fantastic, Disa,” Hiccup replied, grinning as he ruffled Disa’s hair. “Looks like they’re a perfect fit. Does Dart need a saddle?”

Disa shook her head, her pigtails flying through the air. “Dart doesn’t like ‘em, so Birna’s gonna learn to ride like Amma Val does. She doesn’t want Dart to feel bad.”

“Wow, kiddo, that’s really nice of Birna.” Hiccup held out a hand, and Disa took it, gripping his pointer finger as she slid down Toothless’s side. The young father sat down on the deck, leaning back against Toothless, and Disa snuggled into his lap. He listened intently as she described the long and difficult process Birna and Dart had gone through to become “pardners”, involving the classic bonding ritual of offering the dragon a fish, which would be eaten and then “barfed up” again to be offered back to the human. Apparently, it had taken several tries for Birna to keep the “reoffering” from making a third appearance, mainly due to how much Disa enjoyed making barfing sounds. Eventually, the two had become friends, and went for their first flight together, slaloming through Toothless’s dorsal spines.

“That sounds like a lot of fun, sweetie,” Hiccup commented when Disa had paused for breath.

“Birna and Dart almost got stuck!” Disa chirped excitedly. “Toothy’s spikies _wooshed_ open, and Dart flew through them like this,” she tilted the stuffed dragon until he was on his side in midair, “and his tail almost got caught when the spikies _snapped_ closed!”

“Oh, wow!” Hiccup caught the ragdoll Birna as she tumbled off of Dart’s back, and handed her back to Disa. “Sounds like they had a great time.”

“Yeah,” Disa said, deflating suddenly. “Daddy, do you think Mommy and Stormy are together in Valhalla?”

Hiccup bit his lip, hugging Disa tighter to him. “Yes, I do, Disa,” he said. “Do you?”

Disa shrugged. “Is Farfar Stoick in Valhalla too?”

A hard lump formed in his throat, and Hiccup swallowed against it before answering. “I think so. There’s no way to know for sure, but I believe he is, just like I believe Mommy and Stormy are.”

Disa sniffled. “I don’t want Mommy and Stormy to be in Valhalla,” she whimpered. “I want Mommy and Stormy here. Can you send Sharpy to Asgard to ask Odin to give them back?”

“Oh, baby,” Hiccup rested his forehead gently against Disa’s, breathing in her strong baby-scent to keep his own tears at bay. “I wish I could, sweetheart, but it doesn’t work that way. Mommy and Stormy—they can’t come back, even though we want them to. But they’re keeping an eye on us from Valhalla, and we can remember them by telling stories about them.”

“Like you and Amma Val and Gobby tell stories about Farfar Stoick?”

“Just like that, kiddo,” Hiccup replied.

Disa was quiet for a bit, tracing the cracks in the hard leather of Hiccup’s armor. Hiccup let her, resting his head against Toothless’s side and closing his eyes. The crossbow wound in his shoulder from the retreat from Berk was still healing, and was very sore. His whole body was stiff from the marathon flight the previous night, and he was exhausted.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Do you miss Mommy?”

Trust his kid to ask a question that was both easy and hard at the same time. Hiccup sent up a quick apology to his father for all of the dragon-dung he’d put the man through as a child, and opened his eyes to look his daughter in the face.

“Every single moment of every single day and night, Asdis.”

 

* * *

 

The collection of ships made excellent time, and barely a week had passed before land was sighted. Hiccup dispatched scouts to survey the area and find a good landing point, and to ensure that there were no nearby settlements that they would be encroaching on. The land was by no means barren, but everyone was unnerved by the lack of trees, and Hiccup decided to follow the coastline south until they found a likely spot.

The scouts finally led them to a huge, circular bay, which was fed by a comically wide river. They sailed up the river as far as they could until it abruptly shallowed out into a delta fed by a much narrower river and a small stream. Just past the delta lay several _dagsslátta_ of flat, grassy land, surrounded on three sides by high, black cliffs. It was snug and sheltered, and with lookouts posted at the mouth of the bay and along all of the cliffs, it was impossible to sneak up on.

When the scouts reported the presence of a huge pine forest just a few minutes flight southeast, Hiccup decided to call it.

“Fish, run the ships aground,” he ordered. “We’re here.”

“Aye, Chief!” Fishlegs replied, and relayed the order to all of the other ships. With the assistance of the larger dragons, all twelve ships were firmly planted in the muddy bottom of the delta, and the refugee Vikings able to do so disembarked. Dragons shuttled those who weren’t able to walk in the deep mud of the delta to the higher, drier ground just beyond, where everyone stood in awestruck silence at their surroundings.

“Get the ships unloaded,” Hiccup called out. “Anyone with a Timberjack, head to the forest and collect as much firewood as your dragon can carry. Fish, with me, I want to get the campsite cleared so that we don’t set the countryside on fire.”

Together, Hiccup and Fishlegs measured out eight _dagsslátta_ for the campsite, Toothless marking out the boundaries with a stream of plasma. Fishlegs supervised as other dragons gently scorched away the grasses and weeds within the large square and tramped the leftover ash and dirt down to make a hard-packed, smooth surface. Children too small to struggle through the delta mud to help unload the ships were set the task of digging out a large firepit in the center of the campsite and collecting loose stones to line it.

Meanwhile, Hiccup and Toothless took Thuggory, his Monstrous Nightmare Killer, and a small group of dragon-rider pairs to scope out and set up lookout points. They were accompanied by a huge flock of Terrible Terrors that had followed the former Hooligans from Berk all the way to Alba, which were happy to provide air-mail services in exchange for fish, cuddles, and safe nesting areas. Hiccup sketched out a quick map of the terrain, and marked out the locations of the lookout posts to ensure that they would be able to find them again.

The Timberjacks and their riders were back within an hour of their departure, laden down with huge bundles of neatly cut pine. The humans took over finishing the firepit from the children, who stumbled off for naps beneath the tents formed by the resting dragons.

“Spread it on nice and smooth now, lads, fill up all the nooks and crannies,” one woman declaimed loudly as she supervised the application of a thick grayish mud to the stones of the firepit. “Swinehorn, be a love and go get some more mud. Hey now, Arnkel, don’t just slap it on there! Smooth it, like painting a masterpiece.”

Hiccup stopped and watched, fascinated, as the woman oversaw the mixing of what looked like mud from the delta, grass, and gravel. Camicazi, passing by with a bundle of sailcloth in her arms, looked at his face and laughed out loud.

“That’s Dotta the Deviant,” she explained, grinning broadly. “She’s famous on Bog for doing stuff with mud that should be impossible.”

“Y’don’t say,” Hiccup murmured distractedly, entranced by the feat of engineering he was witnessing.

Camicazi rolled her eyes. “C’mon, you nerd, I’ll introduce you guys.”

Hiccup spent the rest of the afternoon learning the secrets of concrete from the former Bog-Burglar, while the camp took shape around them. The Hooligans had barely had enough time to turn around and blink before Dyrvaldr had attacked Hopeless, so the five Berkian ships were stocked with enough camping supplies to outfit the refugee group twice over. Each family got a tent to themselves, and solitary adults could have a private tent if they wished.

Then there were the orphans.

According to Fishlegs, there were one hundred and fifteen children ranging in age from one to fifteen years who had lost their families in the various attacks on the Archipelago tribes. A small group of elder women took charge of the youngest children, and jerry-rigged a trio of tents to fit everyone. The older children were split between four tents each for boys and girls, and Hiccup had pulled Camicazi and Thuggory aside and asked them to keep an eye on the girls’ and boys’ tents, respectively. The majority of the kids were old enough to perform or assist with chores around the campsite, which would help keep them out of trouble, but he still wanted to have some oversight, even if they weren’t going to be in the tents with the kids. Hiccup made a note to himself to check on the orphan tents at least a few times a week, just to make sure that they hadn’t all killed each other.

The firepit was finally finished, and Dotta called over a Deadly Nadder and his rider to cure the concrete. Hiccup took his leave then, the memories of another Nadder and the woman who rode her nearly overwhelming him.

Fishlegs called him over to the small river that fed the larger river, where he and a few other people were testing the water.

“How goes it, Fish?” He asked.

“The river’s fast moving, which keeps it clear, and it’s not brackish, thank Odin,” Fishlegs reported, offering Hiccup a small metal cupful. “Still, it might be a good idea to boil everything before use, just to be safe, until we can dig our own well.”

Hiccup nodded. “Sounds like a plan,” he said, taking a sip and swishing it around before spitting it out. The taste was definitely different, but the fact that it wasn’t brackish was a point in favor—they wouldn’t have to worry about using desalinators anymore. The devices were lifesavers on long sea voyages, but took forever and a day to work. “I’ll make sure the wood collectors know to set aside a portion for water treatment.”

He left Fishlegs to it, knowing that the huge blond man would come to him if there was something that needed building. Dusk was falling over the camp, and Hiccup grinned at the progress made in just one day. Tents were up, lit and warmed inside by Monstrous Nightmare saliva lamps, and a huge bonfire was roaring in the common firepit. Piles of fresh raw fish were being consumed by the various dragons in residence, while fish and some sort of game meat were roasting around the fire. Children and hatchlings chased each other around the open area surrounding the firepit, laughing and shouting joyfully. One boy, a former Meathead, had produced a bone whistle and was turning red with effort as he tried to keep up with the fast paced tune someone had requested. Everyone with two working hands had something in them that they were making—wooden dishes and utensils being whittled, rope and nets being made and repaired, clothing being repaired and decorated. Everyone was talking, laughing, or singing, and sometimes doing all three at once.

It wasn’t Berk. It wasn’t home, but Hiccup thought that maybe, eventually, it could be.

 

* * *

 

Halftan held the little girl as she sobbed, crying for the companion that had just been ripped from her arms and killed in front of her. The girl’s mother stood a bit apart, stone-faced, as her husband presented the carcass of the Terrible Terror to the man seated on the throne before them. He shivered as the man’s cold gray eyes passed over him and the girl, and he held her tighter to him, trying to protect her from the malevolent gaze.

“This is the last dragon on the island?” The man’s deep voice rumbled through the village’s Great Hall, and both Halftan and the little girl in his arms trembled at the sound.

“Aye, my lord,” the girl’s father replied, even as the little girl choked out fresh sobs. “What dragons haven’t been exterminated already have fled to the Wilderwest. Uglythug is now free of the creatures.”

“Excellent,” Dyrvaldr purred, a predatory smile spreading beneath his beard. “Your warriors do you credit, Knut. They follow orders exceptionally well, despite… distractions.” The cold gray eyes flicked to the child still sobbing into Halftan’s tunic.

Beside the throne, the Chief of the Uglythugs crossed his arms over his chest and grinned. “Aye, Dyrvaldr, that they do,” he drawled. “Things would get right uncomf’terble for ‘em otherwise. Oi, wussie! Get tha’ brat outta here—her sniveling’s gettin’ on my nerves.”

Halftan ground his teeth, but knew better than to insult Knut in front of an ally he wanted to impress. He glanced at the girl’s mother, who returned the look with a tiny nod. Halftan adjusted his grip on the child, turned on his heel, and marched out of the hall.

“Shhh, Svala, shhh,” he murmured, trying to soothe the little girl’s distraught tears. “I’m so sorry that happened, kiddo, but it’s over now. Calm down, Svala, it’s gonna be okay.”

By the time they had reached Svala’s family hall, the girl had cried herself into exhaustion, and Halftan tucked her into bed before building up the smoldering fire to warm the building. He sat there next to the firepit, staring into the flames, until the girl’s parents returned.

Kjartan the Gray stomped over to the firepit and threw himself into a fur-covered chair, scowling under his huge gray beard. His wife, Ragna the Mild, busied herself with brewing tea and pouring out ale.

“Excuse me saying this, Halftan, but that brother of yours is gonna get us all killed.”

Halftan shrugged, absently poking the fire with a stick. “The truth is the truth, Kjartan,” he replied. “Knut’s always been a sucker for people with power and ambition, and Odin help you if you try to change his mind about anything.”

Kjartan took off his helmet and ran a hand over his thinning hair. “Your dad is probably setting Valhalla ablaze, having to watch his heir sell his tribe into slavery to a madman. What Dyrvaldr is doing is a sin against Loki and nature itself, and the Father of Dragons isn’t going to take it lying down.”

“All we can do is pray that Loki has mercy on the rest of us,” Ragna sighed, handing out tankards of ale to the men and sitting beside Kjartan with her own cup of tea. “Surely Var or Forseti will intervene on our behalf, if it comes to that.”

Halftan took a long pull of his ale, and thought bitterly, _if the gods haven’t abandoned us altogether._

“I see that look on your face, lad,” Kjartan scolded, bushy gray eyebrows lowering in a scowl over his dark gray eyes. “The Norns have everything in hand, and will move things along as they see fit. All we can do is keep our heads down, and have faith in the gods.”

Halftan nodded, and fiddled with his tankard as he stared unseeingly into its depths.

_I just hope that the gods act before Dyrvaldr wipes us all out, and the rest of the North with him._

 

* * *

 

** Naudhiz **

**Survival**

_the state or fact of continuing to live or exist especially in spite of difficult conditions_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I get notes about my use of desalinators about a thousand years before their actual documented use, please remember that Hiccup is essentially a mad mechanical genius in a seafaring culture. I can't imagine he'd pass up the challenge of trying to provide his sailors with clean drinking water in what is practically a desert, and when you get down to it, the mechanics behind the device are actually really simple. Besides, (and I saw this argument used in the author's notes of another fic [the title of which escapes me right now], and it made far too much sense not to use it here as well) Hiccup is seen in HTTYD2 as using SPRINGS at least 800 years before their first documented use, and nobody blinked an eye. Ergo, let's just say that the HTTYD Movieverse is a sort of Viking-flavored Steampunk universe, and leave it at that.
> 
> Most of my research for this fic comes from The Viking Answer Lady ( http://www.vikinganswerlady.com/index.shtml ). I highly recommend visiting her website!


	3. Mannaz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight warning for some uncharitable thoughts about horses-- Hiccup's a dragon guy, through and through.

Swords clanged and crashed against each other, as the enormous man and his daughter sparred together. The man’s white-streaked red hair was darkened with sweat, as was the tunic beneath his kilt. His daughter, quick and lithe despite the length of the skirt twirling around and betwixt her legs, was sweating as well, her pale complexion flushed. Both had matching broad grins on their faces, and matching pairs of blue eyes danced with mirth. Laughter rang out between pants of effort and traded insults.

“C’mon, lass, are ye trying to give me a haircut or take mah head off?” King Fergus of DunBroch grunted, blocking the Claymore whirling towards his thick neck.

“Would ye rather Ah took off yer other leg, Dad?” Princess Merida shot back, smirking as she aimed a slash towards the limb in question.

“Hey now, that's below th’ belt, ye cheeky bairn!” Fergus yelped, hurriedly knocking the sword away.

Over to the side, three redheaded teenage boys had abandoned their archery practice to watch their father and sister go at each other. Three pairs of bright blue eyes were wide and alert as they watched the two adults. One blinked, and grinned wickedly before elbowing his brothers and holding up his bow. The other two cottoned on immediately, and quickly grabbed their own bows and quivers.

Fergus was showing Merida a disarming technique when an arrow thudded into his wooden peg leg. Both the king and the crown princess whirled around to see the three princes, who were all smirking devilishly as they aimed loaded bows at the pair.

“Looks like we’re under attack, lass,” Fergus growled, scowling at the arrow sticking out of his peg leg.

“Aye,” Merida agreed, twirling her sword. “Shall we teach these choobs a lesson, Dad?”

“If they’re lookin’ for a barnie, they’ve found it!” Fergus rumbled, and sketched a courtly bow. “Ladies firs’!”

Merida stuck her tongue out at him, before ducking an arrow fired by Hamish of the infinite freckles. Fergus tossed her a shield in time to block another arrow, this time from Hubert, the tallest triplet. Harris, by far the canniest of the three, had disappeared, presumably to find a perch to fire from.

The two visible triplets quickly ran out of arrows, and subsequently abandoned their bows for swords. Merida grinned as Hubert engaged her—at fourteen he actually had a few finger-widths of height on her twenty-four year old self, and he pressed the advantage ruthlessly. However, he still wasn’t quite used to his gangly new body, and she easily tripped and disarmed him.

“Ah got one!” She called to Fergus, who was dangling a wildly thrashing Hamish up off of the ground by his belt.

“Aye, lass, so did Ah,” he grinned. “Enemy agents, infiltratin' th' castle, attackin' th' King an' his Heir. Where's yer third accomplice, ye manky coward?”

Hamish snarled playfully, swiping at Fergus with his bare hands. The enormous king gave his son a gentle shake, chuckling.

“All right, Harris, th' game's over now! Time tae come out an' coopon yer King's justice!” Merida called, keeping Hubert at sword-point.

A loud raspberry echoed over the courtyard, and Fergus and Merida rolled their eyes at each other. The Triplets had never grown out of their childhood preference for silence, something that Merida knew worried their parents, Elinor especially. Pragmatic Elinor, always planning for the worst-case scenario, was terrified that if something were to happen to Merida, the Heir Apparent, the next in line, Harris, would be seen as weak for his reluctance to speak to his subjects and summarily removed. Merida, on the other hand, knew perfectly well that the boys could and did speak, they just never saw the point to do so around the family, since their parents and sister could understand them perfectly well.

“Harris, mah lad, best come out now,” Fergus declared. “Yer accomplices have been captured, an’ you’ve not a prayer o’ bestin’ both me an’ Merida. Surrender now, an’ ye’ll be handsomely rewarded.”

A door opened, and Maudie hurried out, dropping into a quick curtsey before the King. “Milord, Queen Elinor requests yer presence in th’ great hall, with all haste,” she said crisply. “Princess, ye as well.”

“Aye, Maudie, we’ll be there presently,” Fergus replied, nodding at her. The Queen’s maidservant curtseyed and bustled away, humming happily.

“Th’ tapestry’s mended, Harris!” Merida called, sheathing her sword and dusting off her dress. A groan floated through the courtyard, but Harris dutifully jumped down from his perch atop the guardhouse roof and slouched over to join his brothers.

“Good try, boys, but Harris, ye took to long to shoot,” Fergus said as he polished his sword. “Ye had a barry opportunity: Merida an' Ah had no idea where ye were, so we wouldn't have been able to guard against ye. Next time, don't hesitate to shoot if ye have th' opportunity.” He finished with his sword and slid it into the sheath. “Now, Merida an' Ah need to go an’ see what yer mother needs. Ah want ye three to take care of yer weapons, an' then ye can have th’ rest of th' day to yourselves. Min' ye stay out of trouble, now!”

The Triplets saluted, and Merida followed Fergus down to the huge round hall that was the center of castle life. Elinor stood before the family thrones, a grave expression on her face as she listened to a man in Mackintosh tartan speak urgently.

“We came as fast as we could, Elinor,” Fergus rumbled, striding up to his wife and quickly kissing her cheek. “What seems to be th' trouble, love?”

“This gentleman is an envoy from th' Lord Mackintosh,” Elinor replied, her voice clipped. “Apparently a large crew of Vikings have set up camp just beyond th' edge of th' Mackintosh lands. Lord Mackintosh dispatched a bain of warriors to confront them, but they retreated without engagement. It seems that th' Vikings are in possession of…” She trailed off, demurely clasped hands tightening nervously.

“Dragons, Yer Majesty, beggin' yer pardon,” the Mackintosh man finished.

“What's yer name, laddie?” Fergus asked, wrapping an arm around Elinor’s shoulders. Merida went to her mother’s other side, taking her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze before turning her attention to the Mackintosh clansman.

“Allen MacNeil, Yer Majesty,” the man said with a bow. “Ah was one of th' warriors sent to engage th' Vikings, an' Ah saw th' dragons wi' mah own two eyes. All sorts, there were, of all shapes an' sizes. Th' leader of our crew took one swatch at them an' turned us back quick as a blink. We told Laird Mackintosh what we saw, an' he sent me to request yer assistance in gettin' rid of th' beasts.”

Fergus nodded. “Can ye show us th' location of this Vikin' camp on a map, MacNeil?”

“Aye, Yer Majesty,” MacNeil replied, reaching into the folds of his tartan kilt. He drew out a scroll, and presented it to the King with a bow.

“All right, MacNeil, thank ye for tellin' us this news so promptly,” Fergus said, taking the scroll and tucking it into his own tartan. “Th' Queen an' Ah need to go over yer information an' decide what we're gonnae do, so Maudie will show ye to some guest quarters for ye to refresh yerself in.”

“Thenk ye, Yer Majesty,” MacNeil replied, bowing deeply. Maudie scurried over to him, and the pair left the Great Hall, leaving the royal couple and the princess alone.

“Come, love, let's go somewhere a wee bit quieter,” Fergus said, steering Elinor towards the staircase to the royal family’s private quarters.

“Ah'll just brin' some tea up to th' library, shall Ah?” Merida said brightly, heading towards the kitchens.

Fergus winked at her. “That'll be just braw, lass. We'll bide fer ye.”

Twenty minutes later, Merida was pouring a cup of tea and fixing it to Elinor’s liking before handing it to her mother.

“Thank ye, love,” Elinor murmured.

Merida brushed off her thanks, fixing her own cup and pouring out a couple of fingers of whiskey for Fergus before settling into a chair beside her parents. “So,” she began briskly, “dragons.”

“Ah'm not sure how much stock Ah want to put into th' idea of real dragons on our shores,” Fergus rumbled, “but this random Vikin' crew landin' so close to th' edge of th' kingdom worries me more.” He took out the map MacNeil had given him, and spread it out on a nearby table, pointing to a dot labeled _Viking Camp_ two knuckle widths to the northeast of the castle labeled _Mackintosh Keep_. “They're less than half a day's ride from Mackintosh Keep, an' less than a day's ride from here. If they've a min' to, they could easily engage either of us. This kingdom hasn't seen war since Ah was younger than ye, Merida, an' Ah'll not have some bloodthirsty Northmen break that streak.”

“Fergus, we don't ken that th' Vikings are here to make mischief,” Elinor cut in, looking much more composed. “MacNeil said himself that they only saw a glimpse of dragons before th' leader of th' crew ordered them to retreat. Ah dinnae think we should assume that they mean to harm us until they make a move to do so.”

“Och aye, love, yer right of course,” Fergus sighed. “Mah apologies, Elinor, this whole kerfuffle's made me a right galoot. Ah'll send MacNeil back to Lord Mackintosh an' have him meet me near th' Vikin' camp, since they're so close to his lands. We'll see if they'll talk to us peaceably, an' clear up these allegations of dragons.”

“Ah'm comin' with ye,” Merida declared, placing her teacup down decisively.

Fergus and Elinor stared at her, but while Elinor’s expression was shocked, Fergus’s was calculating.

“Absolutely not!” Elinor burst out. “A potential army is no place for a princess, especially th' Heir to th' throne!”

“Hang on, now, love, let's hear th' lass out,” Fergus soothed his wife, before pinning Merida with a stern gaze. “Well Merida? What makes ye think Ah should let ye accompany me an' th' lads to a potential war zone?”

Merida took a deep breath, using the pause to gather her thoughts. “Ye won’t take a large troop, because ye don’t want it to look like ye mean to attack th' Vikings. However, to not take any protection at all would be ridiculous, so th' few warriors ye do take will be th' best we have. Ah’m th' best archer in th' kingdom—Ah can help heed off danger at a distance. Bringin' me along as Crown Princess will also give th' impression that ye believe their intentions to be honorable, which would result in positive diplomatic relations. Ye wouldn’t risk yer Heir unless ye felt it was perfectly safe, an' seein' that ye already have a favorable opinion of them will help their opinion of us.”

Elinor stared at her in shock, but Merida kept her gaze firmly on Fergus, since he was the one she needed to convince. The King frowned thoughtfully, studying Merida with narrowed blue eyes.

“We leave at loom of morn the day after tomorrow,” he said finally. “Ye're to bide within mah sight at all times, unless Ah tell ye to run. Ye're to be seen but not heard. Ye keep yer arrows pointed at th' ground unless Ah say otherwise, an' ye don’t take  _anythin'_ , food, drink, or anythin' else, from a Vikin' without checkin' fer poison first.”

Merida felt like dancing, but she limited herself to grinning broadly and chirping, “Aye, Dad!”

“Fergus!” Elinor gasped.

“She needs th’ experience as th’ future Queen, Elinor,” Fergus defended staunchly. “An’ she knows how to defend herself. She’ll be fine.”

Elinor’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t protest further. 

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Fergus sent the Mackintosh envoy MacNeil home with the request that his lord meet the DunBroch party an hour’s ride from the Viking camp. The rest of that day was spent preparing for both the day-long trip, and the potential that the Vikings (or some other enterprising band of marauders taking advantage of the King’s absence) might try to attack the castle. Castle DunBroch’s very construction made it highly defensible, but the inhabitants needed to ensure that they had the supplies needed to withstand a long siege. Thankfully, Fergus believed in being ready for anything, and it only took a few hours to make sure the castle was secure.

Fergus, Merida, and three guardsmen left the castle before dawn the following morning, riding west into the thick pine forest. Merida let Angus do most of the steering, since she was still half asleep, but by the time the sun had fully risen over the mountains, they had left any familiar ground behind, forcing the princess to wake up completely and pay attention to where they were going.

By noon, Fergus announced that they were a third of the way there, and the party stopped for lunch. Merida tried to lighten the mood, but Fergus and the guardsmen were too focused to talk. The meal passed in tense silence, until Fergus grunted for everyone to mount up.

Merida entertained herself for the rest of the journey with fantasies of what she would do if a Viking came after her. She was limited to her bow, sword, and dagger, but as she thought about the weapons that the Vikings themselves used, her options multiplied. The Northmen were famous for their hammers and axes, as well as for their hand-to-hand combat prowess.

“Halt!” Fergus called finally. “Mackintosh should be around here somewhere. We’re ‘bout an hour’s ride from where MacNeil said th' Vikings were camped, so all of ye need to be on yer guard.”

Merida strung her bow, and made sure her quiver and sword were in reaching distance. Angus snorted and danced a bit, sensing his rider’s increased excitement, but calmed down quickly as Merida rubbed his neck soothingly.

“Yer Majesty!” A familiar voice called. Lord Mackintosh galloped up beside Fergus, somehow managing to execute a gentlemanly bow while in the saddle. His own five guardsmen grunted in greeting behind him, bowing their heads to the royals. Fergus and Merida nodded back.

“Thank ye for yer timely response to mah envoy, Yer Majesty,” Mackintosh said, running a hand through his wild black mane. “We haven't had an incursion like this since before th' Great Truce, an' less than a day’s ride from mah very own keep! Ah didn't quite believe th' lads when they told me about th' dragons, but Ah didn't wan’ to take th' chance that their story was true an' have ye unprepared.”

“Ye did th' right thin', Caiside,” Fergus rumbled. “Now, let’s get goin’ an' see what our new friends are up to. Forward!”

Fergus took the lead, and Lord Mackintosh fell into formation on Merida’s right, giving her a quizzical look as he did so. Merida raised an eyebrow challengingly, daring the lord to say something, but he just rolled his eyes and shrugged.

It didn’t take very long at all for signs of human habitation to begin to appear. Trails had been cleared through the undergrowth, forest herb beds and berry bushes showed signs of being picked, and huge swaths of trees had been cut down. The leftover stumps were odd, though—they were entirely too tall to have been cut by humans, unless they were at least four or five times as tall as Fergus.

“Dad, hang on,” Merida called, reining Angus to a halt beside one of the stumps.

“Merida, what are ye doin’?” Fergus growled, turning his Shire horse Duff around.

“Ah want to look at somethin’, pure quick,” Merida replied, positioning Angus as close to the cut off tree as she could. “Stay here, laddie.” Hooking her bow over her shoulder, she pushed herself up to stand on Angus’s strong back and wrapped her arms around the stump. She ignored Fergus and Lord Mackintosh muttering behind her as she shimmied up the rough bark to the flat top.

The top of the stump was wide enough that Merida could pull herself up to sit, but when she placed her hands to do so, the feeling of the cut wood stopped her. The tree had been sliced through as cleanly as if it had been done by Cook’s best, sharpest kitchen knife. There wasn’t a single tool mark to be found, nor a single splinter in the driest part of the bark. Whoever or whatever had cut the tree down had done it with something incredibly sharp, and with a single blow.

Merida slid back down the stump and mounted Angus. Taking a deep breath, she faced the annoyed and bewildered men and said, “Ah think Ah just found proof of dragons.”

 

* * *

 

It was only by sheer chance that Hiccup spotted the strange group traveling through the forest while on his evening patrol with Toothless. A flash of fiery red had caught his eye in the afternoon gloom of the woods, and he urged Toothless down closer to the trees to follow it. Knut the Red, the Uglythug Chief who was in league with Dyrvaldr, had red hair, and even though the refugee Archipelago Vikings hadn’t seen a single sign of the invaders, Hiccup felt that it was better to be safe than sorry. However, he and Toothless quickly lost sight of the red flash in the dense leaf cover, and Hiccup let Toothless climb again as he dithered over whether they should go back to the camp or try to find the red flash again.

A decision that was made for him when he saw the red flash in a Timberjack clearing less than half a _rôst_ from the camp.

Hiccup urged Toothless down into the canopy, and the clever Night Fury found a perch that afforded them a perfect view into the clearing. Lifting the mask of his helmet, Hiccup watched the owner of the huge mass of red hair shimmy agilely (if not particularly gracefully) up one of the stumps. She (judging by the long skirt and _not_ by the generously wide hips, Hiccup told himself firmly) paused for a moment at the top, running a hand along the edge and apparently marveling at the fantastically smooth and clean cut. Hiccup was pretty impressed himself, and made a mental note to pay a bit more attention to the Timberjacks and their Riders and make sure they knew he appreciated their hard work. Timberjacks were notoriously sensitive, and their Riders tended to be so as well.

Toothless snorted in warning, and Hiccup came back to the present in time to watch the woman slide back down the tree stump and swing herself up on to the back of the tall four-legged animal standing patiently nearby. Hiccup thought it might be a horse, but since there were no such animals in the Barbaric Archipelago, he wasn’t quite sure. According to a few of the more well-traveled members of the refugee tribe, the Nordens had horses, last anyone had checked, and were constantly battling to keep the local dragon flocks from having the beasts for lunch.

Personally, Hiccup didn’t really see the appeal of the ground-based animals, as one of them lifted its tail (which was made of hair?) and defecated where it stood with no regard for privacy or dignity. Toothless’s disgust seemed to match his own, especially after the wind shifted and the scent of the animal’s droppings blew straight into their faces. The group of horses and their riders moved on, leaving the mess where it was, and all Hiccup could think as Toothless lifted off to follow was that any animal that just randomly relieved itself like that without any sense of self-respect deserved to be eaten. At least dragons had the decency to hide their droppings so that the smell didn’t kill off every living thing in sight.

Toothless grumbled, and Hiccup realized that the group of dragon-snacks and their riders were heading straight for the refugee camp. Suddenly he remembered a report someone had made about a group of warriors dressed in red skirts seen coming from the south, who had turned and fled the moment they saw a dragon. There were six guys in red skirts in this group, plus four guys in blue skirts and the woman in a dark blue dress. Apparently the guys in red had decided that reinforcements were in order.

That settled it, then. Hiccup decided to head the group off before they got within sight of the camp, and if they decided to make a fuss, he and Toothless could deal with them then and there. Most of his warriors were still in various stages of healing, and everyone was still traumatized from the various attacks on their respective islands and the sudden retreat from Hopeless. No one was in any shape to defend themselves from an unknown third party.

“Keep these guys in sight, bud,” Hiccup whispered. The only sign the dragon gave of having heard him was a small twitch of a single earflap, and he silently leapt from tree to tree as he followed the group of horse-riders.

Hiccup watched with interest as the woman and the apparent leader of the pack (flock? herd? whatever), a huge red-haired man who could’ve matched Stoick for sheer mass, seemed to grow increasingly more tense the longer he and Toothless shadowed the group. Finally, the trees thinned out, and the red-haired mountain of a man actually _kicked_ his horse in the sides with a wordless snarl, causing it to snort and break out into a very bouncy-looking gait towards the waning daylight. The rest of the group followed suit, and the forest was quickly filled with the sound of thundering feet on hard ground.

“That’s our cue, Toothless,” Hiccup murmured. Toothless warbled and lifted off, breaking out of the canopy dramatically with a signature Night Fury scream. They spiraled in a high arc over the rest of the forest, straightening out and landing with a thud in front of the panicking horses and the riders trying to stay astride.

“Can I help you folks?” He asked jovially, as Toothless bared his teeth in his most threatening growl. 

 

* * *

 

Merida could feel eyes on her back as she steered Angus through the brush behind Fergus and Duff. The forest was eerily quiet, and she could feel her shoulders and neck tightening in anxiety as the silence went on. She could tell that Fergus was getting nervous as well, and as the trees thinned out, the King grew impatient and kicked his mount into a trot. Merida copied him gratefully, and the rest of the group followed. Just as they broke through the tree line onto the moor, an ear-splitting, bone-chilling scream rent the air and sent the horses into a blind panic.

Merida barely noticed the thud of something large falling to the ground as she tried to calm Angus down, until a distinctly male voice asked, “Can I help you folks?”

“Och fer pity’s sake, Angus!” Merida growled, only to pause when something that was distinctly _not_ Angus growled back. She didn’t have time to think about it, however, as Angus reared up in terror and threw her off.

She curled up and hit the ground on her shoulder, rolling away from Angus’s hooves the way Fergus had taught her. Once she was clear, she got to her feet and went straight back to her horse, gently taking hold of the reins and rubbing his neck soothingly as she whispered nonsense into his ear.

“Hey, are you okay?” The male voice asked, sounding worried. Merida grit her teeth and turned to the voice, preparing to tell him off for scaring the horses, but what met her eyes caused her to freeze in place.

Standing before the Scots was a huge black beast, baring gleaming white teeth that looked sharper than Merida’s sword. Poisonous green eyes bored into her own, cold and ruthless, while sharp black claws dug into the ground. A sinuous black tail lashed behind the beast, much the way Merida had observed the tails of the castle mousers on the hunt.

Fergus steered Duff in front of Merida and Angus, cutting off Merida’s view. “An’ who migh’ ye be?” He demanded, and for a single moment of pure shock, Merida thought he was addressing the beast. Not wanting to miss out on anything, Merida quickly swung herself back up into Angus’s saddle, and realized that there was someone _sitting_ on the back of the large black beast.

The figure was frighteningly thin, dressed in leather armor with an iron helmet that covered its face. The armor was very close-fitting, enough so that Merida could guess with reasonable certainty that wearer was male. The contraption he was sitting on seemed to be some kind of saddle strapped to the beast, which didn’t seem quite so big now that Merida was seated on her tall Shire horse. Discounting the tail, the beast actually seemed to be of a size with Angus, if a couple of hands or so shorter at the shoulder.

The man fiddled with something on his left side, causing one of the large fans on the beast’s tail to extend fully. The fan was bright red, painted with a helmet wearing skull, and Merida realized with a start that it was fake. The man swung himself down from the beast’s back, giving its neck a rub just like Merida would for Angus, and stepped forward.

“I’m Hiccup Haddock, last living Chief of the Barbaric Archipelago,” he said, removing his helmet and placing it on the saddle on the beast’s back. Curious, leaf-green eyes peered at the group from under a raggedly cut russet brown fringe. His sharp cheekbones were dusted with freckles, and his equally sharp jaw was shadowed with stubble. He gestured to the beast just behind him. “This is Toothless, Alpha of the surviving Barbaric Archipelago dragons. And you are?”

Fergus dismounted as well, handing Duff’s reins to one of the guardsmen and motioning Merida and Lord Mackintosh forward. Merida copied her father's actions, as did Lord Mackintosh, and the two took their places on each side of the King.

"Ah am King Fergus of DunBroch," Fergus announced stiffly, and Merida had to work to hide her wince. Public speaking wasn't her dad's forte, even after all the years he'd been ruling. "This is mah daughter an’ Heir, Merida, an’ one of mah vassals, Caiside Mackintosh, Lord of Clan Macintosh."

One of Chief Haddock's eyebrows rose, and he turned to his beast. "Looks like we're in trouble now, bud," he drawled, and Merida could have sworn that the beast _smirked_. “I have to say, I knew Alba was inhabited, but I didn’t expect to be confronted by an actual king. There’s one thing off the bucket list.” He turned back to the puzzled Scots and smirked. “So, what can Toothless and I do for you, King Fergus?”

Fergus seemed to swell, looking down his large nose at the younger, shorter man in front of him. “There have bin concerns raised, that a crew of Vikin’s have arrived on our shores with… less than honorable intentions. Lord Mackintosh had sent a crew of scouts to observe an' report, bu’ they were prevented from approachin' by yer dragons. Lord Mackintosh requested mah assistance with determinin' yer intentions an' if necessary, with yer removal.”

Chief Haddock stared at Fergus, green eyes wide and mouth gaping like a fish. Merida couldn’t help but wonder what he was so surprised about. Everyone knew that Vikings were violent, honor-less plunderers—before the Great Truce, generations of Scots had had to defend their lands from the Northmen. Maybe he was surprised that he’d been caught so quickly?

The Viking chief let out an odd sound, almost like a bark, and then doubled over with laughter.

“Y-you think… we’re here… t-to _invade you_?!” The man guffawed breathlessly, turning red faced. “You really think… oh this is incredible, Toothless, do you hear this guy? He thinks we’re here to plunder and pillage! Oh, gods, that’s the most hilarious thing I’ve heard in ages!”

“What in Scotia’s name are ye blabbering about, man?” Lord Mackintosh demanded, while Merida watched in shock as the beast, Toothless, relaxed its snarl and _rolled its eyes_. Exactly the same way Merida knew she’d done when Elinor was being too strict. It let out a chuffing noise that actually sounded sarcastic, and whacked Chief Haddock across the back of the head with a paw, causing the man to stumble with a yelp.

Merida couldn’t help the little shriek of shock she let out at that, but there was no blood and Chief Haddock’s head still seemed attached to his shoulders, and she realized that the beast had somehow sheathed its claws like a cat. It had hit the chief with the flat of its paw, like a mother cat disciplining a naughty kitten, and judging by the way Chief Haddock was rubbing the back of his head and grumbling good-naturedly, instead of disciplining the beast, this was a common occurrence.

“Thanks, bud, way to make me look stupid in front of visiting dignitaries,” Chief Haddock grumbled, giving the beast a half-hearted shove. The large black animal didn’t even sway with the move. It probably hadn’t even felt it.

Chief Haddock ran a hand through his shaggy hair and looked Fergus boldly in the eye. “So, you think me and my tribe are here to raid and pillage and do dastardly deeds, is that it?”

“Aye, it is,” Fergus grunted.

“Yer barely a stone’s fling away from mah keep, an' only a bit more than that from th' King’s stronghold, Vikin',” Lord Mackintosh explained impatiently. “We’ve had to run ye lot off before, an' we’ll do it again if we need to. So explain yerself, an' quick, or ye’ll wish ye’d never sit foot on our shore!”

“I already do,” Chief Haddock sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I could talk to you guys until I’m blue in the face, but you’re never gonna believe me, because I’m a gods-damned Viking. So why don’t you come with me to my camp, take a look around, and we’ll talk afterward in my tent like civilized people. How’s that sound?”

“How do we ken yer not gonnae pull anythin', Vikin'?” Lord Mackintosh growled. Merida thought that he was doing a great job of provoking the man, and silently wished he’d shut up. The hot-tempered lord was going to get all of them killed if he wasn’t careful.

Chief Haddock pinched his nose again, sighing deeply. “Loki give me strength,” he murmured.

“Lord Mackintosh, yer out of line,” Fergus rumbled suddenly. “This man has offered us his hospitality, when by rights we should be offerin' ours. If yer gonnae keep accusin' Chief Haddock of treachery, ye can bide here with th' guards.”

Merida mentally sighed with relief. Fergus had decided to take Chief Haddock at his word, and while the King probably didn’t trust the younger man at all, he was willing to listen, and that was half the battle.

Lord Mackintosh grumbled, but subsided when Fergus glared at him.

“Chief Haddock, we’d be honored to accompany ye,” the King declared.

“Fantastic,” Chief Haddock said flatly. “Those are horses, right? How fast can they go?”

“Do ye not have horses where yer from?” Merida asked, unable to help herself.

Chief Haddock shook his head. “Nope, haven’t for centuries. The first Vikings to sail to the Barbaric Archipelago, where me and my tribe are from, brought horses with them, but the native dragons saw them as easy meals and they were gone within fifty years.”

Fergus eyed the black dragon uneasily. “Are our horses safe?”

Chief Haddock waved a hand carelessly. “Yeah, our dragons prefer fish.” He turned back to his beast and swung himself up into the saddle, something silver flashing in the fading daylight. Before Merida could get a good look at what it was, the Viking chief was settled into the saddle and fiddling with something on the left side. Once he was done, he picked up his helmet and gave the Scots a questioning look.

“So, you guys coming? We’ll stay low so you can see us.”

Fergus nodded. “Aye, after ye, Chief Haddock.”

“Fine.” Chief Haddock put on his helmet, the mask covering his face. “Let’s go, Toothless.”

With a grunt, the beast’s huge black wings spread and beat down, lifting it and its passenger straight up into the air. It wheeled around, flashing the red fan on its tail, and flapped off to the west, Fergus leading the Scots right behind.

After only a few minutes of riding, a wide pikewall came into view, guarded by two more dragons and three humans, two men and a woman. These dragons, however, were different: One looked like a boulder with wings, and the other…

“Diz 'at beest hae tois bludy heids?” One of the Mackintosh guardsmen muttered.

They came closer, and the size of the two new dragons became even more apparent. The rocky looking one, so brown as to practically blend into the pikewall, was the shorter of the two, maybe even shorter than Chief Haddock’s dragon. The two headed dragon was bright green with a cream-colored belly, and stood taller than Angus’s stable.

Fergus slowed Duff to a walk, and Merida and the other Scots did the same, as they approached the pikewall. Chief Haddock’s dragon suddenly landed in front of the other two dragons, barking happily. Angus jumped, but thankfully didn’t panic, while Chief Haddock pulled a lever on the left side of his saddle, causing the red fan to open fully. He swung down causing that odd silver flash once again, and fiddled with his left leg.

With a start, Merida realized that Chief Haddock’s left foot was gone. In its place was a wood and metal contraption. Chief Haddock stood on both legs again and strode forward with nary a limp, and Merida, whose father had dealt with an amputated foot for most of her life, was quite impressed.

“Hey, Fishlegs!” Chief Haddock called to one of the two men. “Meatlug’s looking fantastic—how are those new deposits working out? Any special side effects Valka or I should know about?”

“Thanks, Chief!” The man addressed replied, grinning broadly. He was enormous—nearly of a size with Fergus—and had blond hair tied back in a short, messy horsetail. He was dressed in a long, simple fur tunic, and had a comically small horned helmet perched on his head. Merida could feel the ground shaking as the man bounded over to Chief Haddock. “We found some more deposits towards the north—I already told Valka about them, she’s so psyched! No side-effects worth noting yet, but I did find the same rocks responsible for the Gronckle-Iron, so we’ll be able to make some tools soon.”

“That’s great, ‘Legs!” Chief Haddock cheered, clapping the man on the shoulder.

“Fishlegs” seemed ready to start babbling again, but he glanced over at Fergus and Merida and the group of Scots on horseback behind them, and his smile dimmed a bit.

“Hey Chief, where’d you find these guys?” The second man called out, slouching over. This man was shorter than both Chief Haddock and “Fishlegs”, and dressed in ragged fabric and fur clothing. His hair was twisted into filthy dreadlocks that reached down his back, and would probably be bright blond if clean.

“Are they wearing skirts?” The only woman asked rudely. She looked frighteningly similar to the second man, both in facial features and clothing, but her blonde braids were much cleaner.

Chief Haddock sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Guys, this is Fergus, _King_ of DunBroch,” he said with exaggerated patience. “He and his men were …concerned… about our presence here. Apparently we’re a little too close to one of his chief’s halls for comfort.”

“Fishlegs” seemed to understand immediately, as the color fled from his face and his smile disappeared completely. The other man and the woman, on the other hand, seemed clueless, but recognized their leader’s tone, for both tensed as though waiting for the order to attack.

Chief Haddock turned to the Scots. “King Fergus, Princess Merida, Lord Mackintosh, meet my Lawspeaker, Fishlegs Ingermann, his wife Ruffnut, and her twin brother Tuffnut Thorston. The brown dragon over there is Meatlug, a Gronckle, and the one with two heads is Barf and Belch, a Hideous Zippleback. Meatlug and Fishlegs are partners, and the twins are partnered with Barf and Belch.”

The three Vikings nodded to the Scots, but didn’t bow, which Merida found odd. She wasn’t sure what a Lawspeaker was, but Ingermann’s wife, and certainly Thorston, were commoners, and should’ve shown more respect to the King. Fergus didn’t seem offended, however, so Merida held her peace, as did Lord Mackintosh, though he looked like he’d encountered an underdone haggis.

“Ruff, Tuff, stay at your post until the end of your shift,” Chief Haddock ordered. “’Legs, I need you to find Valka and have her go to the Mead Tent. Who’s got guard duty after you?”

“Weedsprout, I think,” Ingermann replied, rubbing his blond bearded chin.

Chief Haddock nodded. “Okay, I need him to come on duty early. Tell him that I’ll relieve him myself as soon as I can.”

The huge man scoffed. “Hiccup, you could ask him to stand watch three days and nights straight and he’d do it with a smile. That kid adores you.”

Chief Haddock sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked uncomfortable with the adulation of this “Weedsprout”, Merida realized, and found herself relaxing.

“Get going, ‘Legs, I’ve got company here,” the Viking leader grumbled. “Once you’ve found Valka and Weedsprout, head over to the Mead Tent as well. If you run into Thuggory, let him know what’s going on and that he’s in charge until further notice.”

“Will do, Chief!” Ingermann replied, pounding his right fist over his heart and bowing his head. He then quickly kissed his wife on the cheek (she punched him in the arm in response, but she was smiling as she did, so Merida decided that that was her version of a kiss on the cheek, and Ingermann seemed to take it that way as well, since his grin grew huge and soppy), and jogged over to his dragon, climbing into the absurd looking saddle. The fat beast’s wings started buzzing like a honey bee’s, and the pair lifted off and over the pikewall and out of sight.

“You can leave your horses out here, the twins will make sure nothing happens to them,” Chief Haddock said as they waited. Merida glanced dubiously at the pair, who were apparently competing to see who could belch the loudest. Their dragon(s?) appeared to be judging.

Chief Haddock noticed as well, and rolled his eyes. However, before he could reprimand the pair, the pikewall opened to reveal a boy who couldn’t have been older than Merida’s own brothers, and yet _another_ dragon.

“Chief Hiccup! Weedsprout and Talonvine reporting for guard duty, sir!” The boy shouted, his battered horned helmet falling down over his forehead. The boy’s dragon purred, and a pair of slender appendages that looked disturbingly like vines grasped the helmet and set it properly on the messy black hair.

“Thanks for doing this, Weedsprout, I owe you one,” Chief Haddock told the boy, while rubbing the dragon’s snout. “You keep him out of trouble now, Talonvine. ‘Sprout, are your siblings okay with you coming on duty early? I know you wanted to have supper with them, at least.”

“They’re okay, Chief, they’re spending the night with Fritha,” the boy answered, suddenly serious. “She didn’t mind them coming over early.”

“That’s good, kiddo, make sure you thank her for being flexible.” Chief Haddock smiled at the boy, and sent him off to work with a friendly and gentle pat on the shoulder. He turned back to the Scots and raised an eyebrow.

“Seriously, we don’t have room in there for a dozen horses,” he said firmly. “You’re going to have to leave them out here. I promise, Weedsprout and the twins will look after them.”

Merida could see how dubious Fergus was—if they lost the horses then they would have to walk home, which would take at least four days, maybe up to a week. But they were so close to finding out exactly what was going on…

Merida dismounted and briskly took off Angus’s tack. She removed a length of rope and a stake from one of her saddlebags and quickly fashioned a halter out of one end of the rope, fastening it around Angus’s head. The other end she tied around the stake before pounding it into the ground with her foot. Once Angus was picketed and grazing peacefully, she strode over to a nonplussed Chief Haddock and raised an eyebrow at her father and Lord Mackintosh.

Fergus barked out a laugh, and picketed Duff beside Angus. Lord Mackintosh grumbled but copied his king’s actions, and soon the entire party of Scots was on foot and ready to go in.

“Everybody ready?” Chief Hiccup drawled, looking impatient. “Let’s go then. And keep your weapons to yourselves—our dragons aren’t really fond of strangers waving around pointy objects.”

He turned and strode through the gate, the black dragon padding at his side. Merida and the others followed, and Merida had to suppress a flinch when the gate closed behind them with a thunderous _boom_.

Fergus placed an arm around her shoulders as they followed Chief Haddock through a maze of tents. The tents looked well kept, and the ground they were set up on was well packed dirt and ground up rock, so there was very little mud anywhere. The whole place had a very temporary feel to it, as though the occupants expected to have to pack up and leave at a moment’s notice. The only semi-permanent structure Merida could see was the pikewall.

And there were dragons _everywhere_. Tiny ones no bigger than the mousers back at Castle DunBroch, huge ones as big as some of the houses in DunBroch village, dragons on two legs, four legs, or even no legs at all. The group passed by what must have been a blacksmith’s shop, since it was the only fireplace with an actual chimney, where what first looked like a suspiciously flabby pile of rocks suddenly shot fire into the forge, prompting the blacksmith to start yelling like a banshee.

“Here we are,” Chief Haddock said suddenly, pointing ahead. Before them was spread a large blank area, with only a large firepit dug into the ground and a large open air tent to one side. However, the space was far from empty. Humans of all ages sat, stood, or ran around what Merida could only call the village square, mending, talking, eating, laughing, drinking, and playing. There were dragons everywhere as well, some playing with human children, some sunning themselves on the ground, some gathered around large piles of fish, and others seemingly getting fitted for gear, or checked for injuries.

“This is the main area of our camp, where we gather for meals and meetings and other get-togethers,” Chief Haddock explained. “It’s suppertime right now, which is why it’s so crowded. We’re going this way.” The Viking leader strode around the perimeter of the square towards the open-air tent. The Scots followed, watching all of the activity with wide eyes.

Merida noticed that there seemed to be an awful lot of children and elders, and fewer adults of ages between the two extremes. What adults she could see all appeared injured in some way, as though every person of fighting age had been in a recent battle. She glanced at Lord Mackintosh, wondering if there had been a skirmish he hadn’t told them about, but the black-haired man seemed as surprised at the state of the Viking warriors as she was.

They arrived at the open-air tent, where Ingermann, his dragon, and an older woman with russet brown hair reaching nearly to her knees stood before a roughly hewn table. In the older woman’s arms was a wee bairn with the same russet hair and large blue eyes that lit up when they fell upon Chief Haddock.

“Daddy! Toothy!” The child exclaimed, reaching out to the Chief with a broad grin. Chief Haddock’s gait lengthened, and he plucked the bairn from the woman’s arms and whirled it around, a huge grin on his own face. The child shrieked with laughter, spreading its arms out as though flying.

“Disa!” He echoed the child, kissing it all over its reddening face. “Have you been a good girl for Amma Val today?”

“Yes, yes, Daddy!” The child, now identified as a lass, replied. “Went with Amma Val an’ Fishy an’ Luggy to see lots an’ lots of rocks!”

“You did? Wow, you’re going to have to show me sometime,” Chief Haddock said, settling the child on his hip. “Right now, though, I need you to be as quiet as a Night Fury, okay? Daddy’s got Chiefing to do.”

“’Kay Daddy,” the lass whispered, covering her mouth with a playful grin and a giggle.

Chief Haddock nuzzled the little girl's hair with an identical grin on his face. "That's my little hatchling!" He cooed. Soppy grin still on his face, he turned back to the Scots.

"So, more introductions," he said cheerfully. "You already know Fishlegs, my Lawspeaker. This is my mother and Head Woman, Valka Haddock," he jerked his head in the direction of the russet haired woman. "And this mischievous little hatchling is my daughter and Heir, Asdis Astridardottir Haddock. We call her Disa for short. Mom, this is Fergus, King of DunBroch, his Heir Princess Merida, his vassal Lord Mackintosh, and their guards. They have some concerns about our proximity to their kingdom and our intentions toward it."

The Lady Haddock pursed her lips, her brow furrowing, but she said nothing. Lord Ingermann (Merida still wasn't clear on exactly what a Lawspeaker actually was, but since he seemed important enough to be included in this meeting between rulers, she figured that the huge blond man held a position of some power) cleared his throat and addressed Chief Haddock.

"Chief, apparently my information on the Great Island of Alba was out of date," he said, bowing his head humbly. "I sincerely apologize for this error."

"Not your fault, 'Legs," Chief Haddock replied kindly. "Ships from the Barbaric Archipelago haven't come this far south in over two hundred years. It figures our maps would be wrong. King Fergus, I apologize. We were unaware when we arrived here that we were intruding on your land. Unfortunately, this puts us in a rather uncomfortable position."

"How so?" Fergus asked, frowning in concern.

Chief Haddock glanced at his mother, who gave him a brief nod. The Viking leader took a deep breath, visibly steeling himself for something. "I don't suppose you got a good look at my people as we passed by the center square?" He asked.

"Ye have a great deal of injured, an' disproportionate amounts of children an' elders," Fergus replied slowly.

"What's yer point?" Lord Mackintosh demanded.

Chief Haddock scowled. "My point is that my tribe is in no condition to conduct a raid on a mead hall, much less any fortified structure. The people you see here are all that is left of a total population of nearly six thousand―we now number less than five hundred. Of that, less than two hundred are trained warriors, and less than twenty of those are combat ready. If I tried to launch an attack on either of your halls, you could wipe us out with hilarious ease, dragons or no dragons."

He sighed heavily and looked at his daughter in his arms, a heartbreaking expression of despair on his face. "All I want is peace and safety for my people and my dragons. They've been through so much already..."

Merida found herself inexplicably wishing to comfort him―it was apparent that he had suffered right alongside his people.

"Perhaps ye best start at th' beginnin', Chief Haddock," Fergus suggested gently.

Haltingly, Chief Haddock explained how his tribe, formerly known as the Hairy Hooligans of Berk (Merida had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing out loud), had been attacked by another tribe called the Mad Marauders. Half of his tribe had been wiped out in the attack, and he’d been forced to take the survivors and flee their island. They’d made it to another island, where they’d found the remains of seven other tribes, who all had the same story—they’d been attacked without provocation by the Mad Marauders or their ally, the Uglythugs. Less than a day after the Hooligans had arrived, the Marauders had attacked again, forcing the surviving tribes to flee once again. Chief Haddock had been the only tribal chief to survive the entire ordeal, and had been unanimously chosen by the surviving Vikings to be their leader.

“We came here because our information said that this island wasn’t heavily populated,” he finished, “and we needed time and space to recover without worrying about Dyrvaldr coming after us. I don’t want to get into a battle over territory, but we literally have nowhere else to go.”

Fergus nodded. “Chief Haddock, Ah’d like to offer mah sincere apologies for assumin’ th’ worst of ye an’ yer folk,” he said solemnly. “’Tis not a habit a man, much less a king, should be gettin’ into.”

Not to be outdone, Lord Mackintosh cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Ah must apologize to ye as well, Chief Haddock. Ah have fought against Vikin’s that were tryin' to attack mah home an' people, an' Ah let mah memories cloud mah judgement.”

Chief Haddock gave a wan smile, hugging his now sleeping daughter a little closer to his chest. “I understand, Lord Mackintosh.”

Fergus grunted, stroking his beard. “Well, now that that's all settled, Ah’m sure we can come up with a reasonable solution to yer tribe's situation. Technically, Chief Haddock, yer not actually within DunBroch’s borders, an’ as long as ye remain friendly, there’s no reason for us not to do th’ same.”

Chief Haddock smirked. “Honestly, King Fergus, I’m not in any position to refuse. If you wouldn’t mind providing some more up to date information on your borders so that we know where not to go, we’ll make sure to stay out of your hair.”

“Done,” Fergus replied, smiling as well. “Ah’ll see about gettin’ ye lot some supplies, seeds an’ livestock an’ th’ like, as well.”

Chief Haddock looked thunderstruck, and glanced at Lady Haddock, who appeared just as surprised. “You’d do that?” He asked, turning back to the Scots. “I mean, you just got done making sure that we weren’t preparing for some huge attack on your kingdom, wouldn’t it be a bit counter-intuitive to help get your potential enemy back on their feet?”

Fergus laughed, a full, relaxed belly laugh that Merida hadn’t heard in ages. “Lad, when ye’ve done th’ rulin’ thing as long as Ah have, ye gotta learn to turn potential problems on their head. Ah’d much rather be yer friend than yer enemy, Chief Haddock. Safer an’ more beneficial for both of us that way.”

The Chief grinned broadly, and Merida was struck by how young the Viking leader actually was. He couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than her, if that.

“I couldn’t agree more, King Fergus.” 

 

* * *

 

Merida hummed happily as sleep slowly drained away. She was wonderfully warm and snug, although her bed was a bit harder than she remembered it being. It didn’t seem like a big deal, though, so she let the thought go and listened to the castle come awake around her.

Fergus’s snores seemed much louder and closer than usual. Were they camping? That would explain why her bed was so hard. Her blankets were rougher than usual, as well, and smelled like the salt of the ocean instead of the heather of the Highlands.

There was something small and warm pressed against her side that was vibrating oddly. Had one of the castle mousers decided to join her in bed? It wouldn’t be the first time, although Elinor had always scolded Merida for allowing the semi-feral cats to curl up with her. Merida loved it, though, and always asked the servants to build up the fire in her bedchambers during the winter to ensure she had at least one companion each night.

She tentatively drew a hand out from under her blanket and reached for the purring shape. The odd feeling of a nose sniffing her fingers made her giggle a bit, and then the purring grew louder, and a small head butted her fingertips insistently. Her fingers stroked dry, rough skin, and Merida frowned when she felt a strange protrusion, almost like a horn.

A bird-like chirp met her ears, and she opened her eyes.

Bulbous yellow eyes met her own, peering at her curiously out of a green and red reptilian face. A pair of horns curled haphazardly into the air behind the eyes, and a smaller spike poked out from the forehead. Large nostrils flared, and the creature blinked.

Merida screamed.

The creature screeched and scurried away, only to run into a half-awake Fergus, who yelped and stumbled backwards when the creature hissed.

“Everyone okay in here?” Chief Haddock’s voice called from outside the tent. “We heard screaming.”

The creature barked and scrambled through the tent flaps. Merida jumped out of her bedroll and followed it, grabbing the blanket and wrapping it around her shoulders as she went.

The sky was just beginning to lighten, washing the Viking camp in cool shades of gray and blue. Merida immediately regretted impulsively running out of the warm tent in just her shift and a blanket, but then she saw Chief Haddock.

The young man stood in the pre-dawn gloom in nothing but a pair of leggings, the hem of the left leg tucked hastily into his odd wood and metal peg-leg contraption. His bare arms and chest were littered with freckles and scars in equal amounts, and Merida felt her mouth go dry as she watched lean muscles wrestle with the creature wriggling in his grasp.

“Sharpshot, you crazy little bastard, calm down already!” He growled, but the sharp tone was belied by the way he cuddled what had to be a dragon to his chest. “What were you doing in there, anyway?”

“That’s what Ah’d like to ken,” Merida remarked, forcing her attention away from the lovely musculature on display and staring squarely at the Viking’s face. That was a mistake—Chief Haddock had the worst case of bedhead she’d ever seen, and it was adorable.

 _Get yer heid on straight, lass!_ She told herself firmly.

“Princess Merida! Sleep okay?” Chief Haddock asked, grinning at her. Merida felt her face heat up, and stomped down firmly on the butterflies erupting in her stomach.

“Fine, thank ye, until yer wee friend there decided it was time to scare a couple years off mah life,” she replied, directing her best glare at the dragon curled up in the Viking’s arms.

“Sharpshot? Oh, sorry about him, Princess, he’s just curious,” Chief Haddock said, scratching the little creature under the chin. “He wouldn’t hurt you, he just wants to say hi.”

As if to illustrate the Viking’s point, the little dragon poked its head up and blinked at her, panting through its nose like a happy dog would through its mouth. It was strangely cute, all big eyes curled up like a cat in the man’s arms.

“Yer sure its not goin’ to bite?” Merida asked hesitantly.

“Promise,” Chief Haddock said, smiling gently. “Here, stroke his wing here, he likes that.” One long fingered, calloused and scarred hand rubbed along the wing in question, and Merida reached out to copy him, almost without thought.

The little dragon’s wing was warm, and smooth, like oiled leather without the slick residue. The creature purred thunderously, huge eyes closing in obvious bliss.

“Not so scary now, huh?” Chief Haddock asked quietly.

“He’s… he’s a bonny wee creature,” Merida replied, equally hushed to keep from disturbing the small dragon. “What did ye say his name was?”

“Sharpshot, Princess,” Chief Haddock answered. “He’s what we call a Terrible Terror.”

“What on Earth for?” Merida asked, surprised.

“Well, he may not look like much, but get a good sized flock around him, and Sharpshot here can cause some real damage,” Chief Haddock chuckled. “Vikings haven’t always welcomed dragons, Princess. Until about ten years ago, we were almost constantly at war. Dragons would raid Viking villages almost nightly, and we Vikings were taught from childhood to kill dragons on sight. It was getting to the point that we were driving each other to extinction.”

Merida paused, looking up at the Chief’s eyes, green as the Highlands in summer and very serious.

“What changed?” She asked.

The man smiled cheekily. “That’s a story for another time, Princess. The point is, the names we gave each breed of dragon date back to that time when Vikings and dragons were enemies.”

“An’ ye never bothered to change them?” Merida asked, making a mental note to ask about the war Chief Haddock mentioned at a later time. The young man shrugged.

“Vikings have stubbornness issues,” he said simply.

Merida laughed, causing the blanket wrapped around her shoulders to slip. Chief Haddock blinked, then went bright red and hurriedly averted his gaze.

“Ehm, well, if you’re okay now, I, uh, I guess I’d better let you, uh, get dressed and all, Princess,” he stammered.

Merida blushed as well, and nodded mutely. She ducked back into the tent, where Fergus and Lord Mackintosh were already dressed and trying very hard not to look like they’d been eavesdropping.

“Mornin’, lass!” Fergus said cheerfully.

“Mornin’, Dad,” Merida replied, pulling her dress out of her bag and shaking it out. “Hear anythin’ interestin’?”

“Not a wee thing,” Fergus teased, winking at her. “Now, Ah expect ye want a bit of privacy to dress, so Lord Mackintosh an’ Ah’ll leave ye be. We’ll meet ye in th’ Mead Tent when yer ready.”

“Aye, Dad.”

The men left, and Merida dressed quickly, wanting to explore the camp.

Even though the sun was barely peeking over the mountains, things seemed bustling. Children and dragons scurried about, performing chores, while adults tended to weapons or tools or clothing. Merida walked around, dodging the small ones underfoot, and studied the people she saw.

The first thing she noticed was that everyone looked tired, as though no one was getting enough sleep. The adults were the worst, but Merida noticed that even several of the children she saw had dark circles under their eyes.

The second thing she noticed was that nearly every adult she saw was injured in some way. Most were only bruised or scratched, the injuries already half-healed. But every so often she ran into a man or woman who was missing a limb, or had their head or some other part of their body bandaged. Pain creased the faces of those more severely injured, and Merida felt like crying.

Overwhelmed, she hurried back to the Mead Tent, where her father, Lord Mackintosh, and a (thankfully) fully dressed Chief Haddock were sitting around a rough-hewn table. Chief Haddock’s dragon lounged at their feet, looking half-asleep. Fergus looked up as she approached, a broad grin crossing his bearded face.

“Merida, love, there ye are!” The King called. “Come have some breakfast before we get on our way. This lot eats _fish_ for breakfast, can ye believe it?”

Chief Haddock looked up from where he was piling pieces of smoked fish onto his plate and smiled. “Not usually, King Fergus, but since we don’t have any grain at the moment, we gotta make do,” he said. His Highland green eyes sparkled, and Merida was instantly distracted. Instead of the form-hugging leather armor he’d been dressed in the previous day, the young Chief wore a forest green tunic over his brown leggings, the sleeves ending at his elbows to show off deliciously muscled forearms.

“An’ that’ll change once we get back to DunBroch, Chief Haddock,” Fergus declared. That snapped Merida back to what she’d seen around the Viking camp, and she bit her lip as she turned to the foreign leader.

“Chief Haddock, would ye consider bringin’ yer wounded to DunBroch?” She blurted out.

Wide green eyes blinked up at her, while Fergus and Lord Mackintosh stuttered incoherently. Merida ignored them and kept her gaze on the young man before her.

Chief Haddock wiped his hands on a nearby cloth and gestured for Merida to have a seat in front of him. Merida sat, and a plate of smoked fish was placed before her.

“So, Princess, what brought this on?” Chief Haddock asked.

Merida fidgeted, picking at her fish. “Ah took a walk, before comin’ to th’ Mead Tent,” she said softly. “Yer people are sufferin’, Chief Haddock, an’ Ah want to help. We have medicines an’ herbs to keep down infections an’ pain. An’ ‘tis well protected, so ye don’ have to worry about this Dyrvaldr attackin’.”

Chief Haddock nodded as she spoke, expression unreadable. When she finished, he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“I really appreciate your concern, Princess Merida,” he said, giving her a lopsided smile, “but we’ll be fine. We may be vulnerable, but we’re not completely helpless. Thanks for the offer, though.” He went back to his breakfast, seeming to think the matter closed.

Merida opened her mouth to argue, but Fergus’s large hand landing gently on her shoulder stopped her.

“Enough, lass,” he murmured. “Ye asked yer question, an’ he answered. He knows his people an’ his situation better than ye, an’ tryin’ to force things will just insult him further. Let th’ man an’ his folk have their pride.”

Merida sighed and nodded. “Aye, Dad.”

They continued their breakfast in silence, until Lady Haddock and Lady Asdis arrived. The dragon Toothless perked up immediately, as Lady Asdis toddled over and wrapped her arms as far around the thick black neck as they could go.

“Morning, Toothy!” She shrilled, planting a kiss on the dragon’s nose. Merida waited for the animal to growl and attack, but Toothless simply warbled and bumped his nose against Lady Asids’s head in a dragon version of a kiss. The child giggled, and raced over to Chief Haddock, throwing her arms around her father’s neck and kissing his cheek. “Morning, Daddy!”

“Good morning to you too, Disa,” Chief Haddock chuckled. “Sleep well?”

“Yup! Can Princess Merry play with me an’ Dart an’ Birna?” Lady Asdis asked as Chief Haddock plopped her in his lap and reached for a second plate.

“Sorry, hatchling, King Fergus and Princess Merida need to go home pretty soon,” the Chief replied as he transferred some of his own fish to the new plate and set it in front of his daughter. The wee lass whined wordlessly, poking at the food with a tiny fingertip.

“Asdis, dear, don’t play with your food,” Lady Haddock scolded absently.

“Sick o’ fishies,” the child grumbled.

“Give it to Toothless, then,” Chief Haddock suggested, and the dragon in question perked up, odd ear-like flaps standing up. Merida had to stifle a giggle at how much the large beast looked like one of Fergus’s spoiled hunting hounds. “After all, fish is the only thing Toothless eats, and he’s grown into a big, strong dragon. Don’t you want to grow into a big, strong Viking?”

“Yeaaahhh…” Lady Asdis wavered.

“Of course, you don’t have to eat it if you really don’t want to,” Chief Haddock continued blithely. “You could give it to Toothless, and he’ll keep growing while you stay little, and soon he’ll be so big that he could sneeze and blow you right off of Midgard.”

“Oh no!” Lady Asdis gasped, and started shoving pieces of fish into her mouth as fast as she could.

Fergus bellowed out a laugh. “That’s a right clever tale, Chief Haddock! Ah should remember that for th’ next time mah lads don’t eat their haggis!”

“That’s what my dad told me when I was Disa’s age to get me to eat,” Chief Haddock explained sheepishly. “Of course, back then it was more along the lines of how the dragons would think I was a tasty snack if I didn’t bulk up enough to make them choke, but whatever.”

Everyone finished their breakfast, and Fergus sighed.

“Ah must apologize, Chief Haddock, but Ah’m afraid we must be goin’,” he said reluctantly. “Ah’ll send a courier back with th’ supplies Ah promised within a fort-nigh’ or so.”

“Understood, King Fergus,” Chief Haddock replied, nodding. “Thank you again for your generosity. You seriously don’t have to do that, we could work out a trade.”

“Och, lad, call me Fergus,” the King brushed off the Viking’s words with a wave of his hand. “An’ Ah’ll consider a trade agreement  _after_ ye get yerself an’ yer people on yer feet again. Ah won’ cheat ye or pressure ye before yer ready. Ye’ve been through an ordeal, Chief Haddock, an’ ye need to let yerself recover.”

“Thank you, Fergus,” Chief Haddock repeated. “And you all can call me Hiccup. Let me walk you to where we’ve stabled your horses. Toothless, you better stay here—we don’t want the horses to panic again like they did yesterday.” The dragon snorted, and ambled off to lie in the morning sun.

“Lazy reptile,” Chief Haddock snickered.

As they walked through the camp, Lady Asdis grabbed onto Merida’s hand and chattered gaily, pointing out and naming various friends and dragons. When they reached the paddock just outside the pikewall that had housed their horses overnight, Merida turned to the little girl and asked, “Would ye like to meet mah horse, Lady Asdis?”

Lady Asdis’s eyes grew huge, and she whirled around to address her father. “Daddy, Daddy! Did you hear Princess Merry? She said I could meet her horsie! Can I, Daddy? Can I, can I, can I?”

Chief Haddock’s smile appeared a bit forced, but he replied, “If Princess Merida doesn’t mind me tagging along.”

“Not at all, Chief Haddock,” Merida answered, grinning at Lady Asdis’s enthusiasm.

“Hiccup, please, Princess,” the Viking said, easily swinging his daughter up on his hip. “And this is Disa.”

“Merida, then, Hiccup.” She smiled at the pair, and turned to climb over the paddock fence. Hiccup lifted Disa over the fence, then awkwardly climbed over himself.

“Oh, pretty!” Disa cooed, catching sight of the small herd of horses bunched up together at the other end of the paddock.

Merida whistled, and Angus detached himself from the herd and trotted over. Disa squealed as the huge Shire horse approached, and Merida giggled at the barely concealed panic on Hiccup’s face as he snatched Disa up off the ground to keep her from being trampled.

“Whoa, laddie!” Merida called. Angus slowed to a walk, coming up to his mistress and snuffling her hair and clothes, looking for treats. He whickered in disappointment, and Merida clucked at him.

“None of tha’ now, Angus, we’ve got company,” she scolded. “Hiccup an’ Disa, meet mah best friend Angus. Angus, these are Hiccup an’ Disa.”

“Hi Ang-gus!” Disa said, her high voice going a bit shrill in her excitement. “Daddy, say hi!”

“Hi Angus, nice to meet you,” Hiccup stated flatly. Disa seemed to recognize the tone of her father’s voice, for she scowled darkly.

“Daaaadddyyy, be _niiiice_ ,” she growled, and Merida nearly choked at how _cute_ she was.

“What are you talking about, hatchling, I’m always nice,” Hiccup retorted. Disa rolled her eyes, and Merida gave up on her struggle to keep from laughing at the pair.

“No respect around here, none at all,” Hiccup grumbled, scowling at the chortling princess.

“Merida, time to tack up!” Fergus called.

Hiccup stepped back, keeping Disa in his arms, as Merida collected Angus’s saddle and bridle from one of the guardsmen. With quick, efficient movements, she fastened the equipment onto her horse, aware of the questioning gazes of the two Vikings.

“What’s with the straps on his head?” Hiccup asked finally.

“What, th’ bridle? It’s to help steer, an’ to help keep th’ horse under th’ rider’s control,” Merida explained, swinging herself up into the saddle. Glancing back at her audience, she was surprised to see Hiccup scowling. “What’s th’ matter?”

“That… bridle-thing,” he said, nose and forehead scrunched in obvious distaste, “does that _have_ to be there? Can’t you ride Angus without it? It looks uncomfortable.”

Merida smiled, touched at the man’s concern for her mount. “That’s sweet of ye to be worried, Hiccup, but there’s no need. Angus is used to th’ bridle an’ bit, an' Ah know how to use them without hurtin’ him. An’ to be perfectly honest, horses are not th’ brightest animals around, they need th’ guidance that comes from th’ reins. Don’t yer dragons have bridles?”

Hiccup looked scandalized at the very thought, green eyes going wide and mouth dropping open in a ridiculous-looking gape. “Odin’s eye, no! No dragon in their right mind would ever consent to something like that! They wouldn’t be able to shoot fire or hunt!”

“There ye go, then,” Merida replied. “Yer dragons are hunters, which means they’re right smart animals. They probably don’t need much instruction from ye, do they?”

“We consider our dragons to be our partners, equal in everything,” Hiccup declared. “I’d sooner put a muzzle on my own face than on Toothless.”

“That’s really incredible, Hiccup.” It was plain to see that the Viking loved his dragon every bit as fiercely as he loved his child.

“Merida! Time to go, lass!”

“I guess we’ll see you around,” Hiccup said with a lopsided smile. “Have a safe trip home.”

“Thank ye, Hiccup,” Merida replied. “Disa, Ah’ll play with ye an’ yer friends th’ next time Ah see ye, arrigh?”

“Okay, Princess Merry!” Disa chirped, waving a small hand wildly and narrowly missing clocking her poor father in the face. “Bye-bye!”

“Bye, Disa!” Merida waved back, and then focused on directing Angus to fall in behind Fergus and Duff. The collection of horse-riders filed away from the Viking camp, and she smiled to herself as they turned south-east. It was hard to believe that less than a day earlier she’d been worried about surviving this trip, and now she couldn’t wait to return.

 _Th’ boys are never goin’ to believe this!_ She thought excitedly.

 

* * *

 

It was nearly dark when Merida, Fergus, and the DunBroch guardsmen returned to Castle DunBroch. Elinor stood waiting on the steps in front of the main tower, stark relief visible on her face as they rode into the bailey.

Fergus dismissed the guardsmen to their homes, thanking them for their service. Merida led the horses to their stable and helped the stable-hands feed and water them and rub them down. When the animals were settled, she headed up to the family’s private sitting room, where her parents and brothers had gathered to talk about their new neighbors.

“So Lord Mackintosh’s man was tellin’ th’ truth about th’ dragons?” Elinor asked.

“Aye, he was, an’ how!” Fergus declared, grinning broadly. “Dragons everywhere ye looked, all different sizes an’ colors an’ shapes. Chief Haddock himself has his own great beastie, black as th’ Laird o’ Hell’s own kilt an’ wicked smart. Even th’ wee bairns have their own dragons.”

“Incredible,” Elinor murmured. “An’ they are nae goin’ to attack us?”

Merida cut in, visions of the tired and injured Vikings she’d seen that morning dancing behind her eyes. “Mum, their whole camp could fit within our own bailey with room to spare. Nearly every warrior they’ve got is injured in some way, an’ they’ve got more elders an’ bairns than warriors anyway. They’re barely able to  _feed_ themselves, much less try to attack someone. They need help, not suspicions.”

Fergus chuckled. “Yer lass here tried to convince Chief Haddock to move his ill an’ injured here fer “proper” medical care. Seemed to think he wasn't able to care fer his folk himself.”

“Och, Merida! Ah cannae believe ye insulted him like that!” Elinor scolded. “Ah hope he wasn't offended too badly.”

“No, he’s a level one, Chief Haddock is, fer such a young cheil,” Fergus soothed. “Sat her down an’ gently told her that he wasn't goin’ to take her up on her offer, but he appreciated th’ spirit in which ‘twas made. Instead, we’re donatin’ seed an’ livestock to help get them back on their feet.”

“Is there anythin’ else they need?” Elinor asked, going over to the writing desk in the corner and hurriedly sharpening a quill. “Food, blankets, medicines? Fergus, come over here an’ help me make a list.”

Fergus chuckled and pulled a chair over beside his queen. In short order, the meticulous administrator drew up a list of items to send to the refugee Viking camp.

To Merida’s surprise, Elinor handed it to her and asked if there was anything she felt they should add. Reading over her mother’s neat script, she found one thing missing.

“Toys,” she said, handing the parchment back to Elinor. “There’s so many wee ones with naught but th’ clothes on their backs, an’ no parents to comfort them. They need somethin’ to play with, to take their minds off things.”

Elinor smiled. “O’ course, dear. We’ll start gatherin’ these items tomorrow.” She scribbled on the addition, as Fergus turned to Merida with an oddly serious gaze.

“Merida, Ah’d like ye to be DunBroch’s ambassador to Chief Haddock’s tribe,” he said. “Th’ two of ye are of an age, an’ ye’ve already established a rapport. He could be a powerful ally to ye, when yer Queen.”

Merida blinked, words failing her. Glancing at Elinor, she saw that the Queen’s brown eyes were wide with shock, but when her mother looked back at her, the older woman’s gaze melted into shrewd consideration.

“Ah agree with yer father,” she declared with a regal nod. “This would be an excellent lesson in diplomacy for ye. Ah’ll draft a letter for ye to give to Chief Haddock.”

With her mother’s approval, Merida couldn’t contain her growing excitement. “Dad, of course! Ah’d love to be DunBroch’s ambassador to th’ Vikin’s!”

Fergus grinned at her. “Ah thought so. We’ll go over yer duties more tomorrow, but yer first assignment will be to deliver our donations to Chief Haddock’s camp in two weeks.”

Merida danced in place, more excited than she’d been in a long time. She couldn’t wait to see the expression on Hiccup’s face when she returned to the camp.

 

* * *

 

**Mannaz **

**Support**

_to give help or assistance (to someone or something)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, folks-- this is the end of my finished chapters, and updates now are going to be much more sporadic as I try to balance school and work and writing. But keep the kudos and the bookmarks coming, they're great motivators, and definitely comment and tell me what you think!
> 
> EDIT 1/21/2018: After a few reviews about the thickness of some of the accents, I've toned them down a lot, so they should read easier now. I'd had this idea that the thickness of the accent would indicate the social class and/or clan the character belongs to, but obviously that's not happening. Oh well. By the way, chapter four is on its way, just need to finish a couple more scenes and tweak some of the dialogue! Woot!


	4. Gebo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for PTSD flashback episode, as well as a duel and a screaming row between a pair of characters.

Hiccup was not in the habit of taking people, even those he knew and trusted, at their word. Too much had happened to him over the course of his twenty-five years on Midgard for that. In fact, the only being whose word he trusted above all others was Toothless, who didn’t actually speak in human tongues. Despite that, the dragon had never lied to him, or led him to believe anything other than the truth. Astrid had been one of those beings as well, but she was gone now, and Hiccup had to learn to cope without her.

So, his circle of people whose word he believed implicitly had shrunk, and he took everything he heard from anyone who was _not_ Toothless with a grain a salt. Therefore, when King Fergus had announced that he would send the random tribe of Vikings who had landed on his shores out of the clear blue sky supplies to help them establish a colony within two weeks, Hiccup had been surprised, but hadn’t expected anything to come of it.

Until he was alerted to riders approaching from the southeast, dressed in the same blue skirts that King Fergus and his men had worn when they had visited.

Hiccup was sweaty and filthy from a morning of helping Gobber cast tools of various sizes—the Gronckles had started producing Gronckle-Iron, and the two smiths were up to their ears in the stuff, but until they had means of working the metal, it was kind of useless. Therefore, Hiccup was in no shape to be hobnobbing with visiting royalty. However, it would be the height of rudeness to turn the visitors away. So, he sent Thuggory to meet the convoy and stall them while he made himself presentable.

Thankfully the village bathhouse was empty, and the newly dug well and aqueduct system ensured fresh bathwater, heated in a flash by Toothless’s plasma bolts. Hiccup scrubbed away the soot and grime, combed out his hair, and changed into a clean tunic.

Someone knocked on the bathhouse door, and Hiccup, affixing his prosthetic to his leg, called for the person to enter.

Valka poked her head in. “Hiccup, representatives from DunBroch are here, they want to see you.”

“I know, but I didn’t want to talk to them all covered in forge-spit,” Hiccup explained, rubbing his chin and wondering if he should have shaved. Unfortunately, until they’d made all of the tools the village needed, mirrors would have to wait, and therefore so would shaving. “I sent Thuggory to keep them occupied until I was presentable.”

“I think they’ve been occupied long enough,” Valka remarked. “The new ambassador is getting impatient.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Hiccup groused, testing out his prosthetic for stability before striding out of the bathhouse. Toothless padded along beside him as they made their way towards the center square, skirting around various halls under construction.

He spotted Thuggory in the Mead Tent, speaking to a young woman with a mass of curly red hair and an unimpressed expression on her face. The pair saw him at the same moment—Princess Merida grinned broadly, and Thuggory smirked.

“All clean and pretty, Hiccup?” The older man teased.

“Spend six hours in a forge and see if you come out smelling like dragon-grass,” Hiccup retorted. He turned to the princess and returned her grin with one of his own. “Princess, welcome back! I gotta be honest, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. How’s King Fergus?”

The grin on Merida’s face turned impish. “Dad’s fine, thank ye, Chief Haddock,” she replied. “He’s named me his ambassador to yer tribe, bein’ as th’ pair of us are of an age. Here’s a letter mah mum drew up to explain.” She held out a folded piece of parchment, finer than any Hiccup had ever seen in his life, and he took it numbly. The princess went on, “Mah first assignment is to deliver these supplies an’ to assist yer people in establishin’ farmland. Ah brought a few of mah family’s crofters to share their expertise with yer folk.”

Hiccup blinked, his mouth working uselessly. Not only had Fergus kept his word, but he’d sent his own daughter and heir to ensure their arrival and to treat with Hiccup and his tribe. That wasn’t unheard of in the Archipelago, since most Heirs were chosen in adulthood after first proving their combat and diplomatic abilities. However, Hiccup was pretty sure that King Fergus’s throne passed down through blood, making Princess Merida a very, very important figure in DunBroch politics. This king was entrusting his most important asset to a group of people who, in his experience, had only caused his people harm. Hiccup could only hope that King Fergus was as aware of the risk he was taking as Hiccup himself was of the exorbitant amount of trust being placed in him and his people.

An elbow to the ribs from Thuggory jarred his brain back into working order, and Hiccup took a deep breath and smiled in genuine pleasure at Merida. “That’s amazing, Princess,” he said, tucking the letter into his vest to read later. “We’ll need to set aside a hall for you to use during your visits. In the meantime, we’ll pitch a tent for you near mine. Mom, you mind seeing to that? Thug, I want you and Fishlegs to inventory Princess Merida’s donations and then start distribution. Use your best judgement, but make sure everyone gets what they need.”

“We brought livestock as well, some sheep an’ cattle an’ chickens,” Merida cut in. “Not enough for everyone to have their own, though.”

“That’s okay, they’ll be tribe property until we’ve bred enough for everyone to have a few,” Hiccup replied distractedly, already running plans and calculations in his head. “Thug, do we have anywhere to house livestock?”

“Aye, Chief, the paddocks just outside the walls,” Thuggory replied.

“Excellent, have some of the shepherds supervise getting the animals settled, and keep the larger dragons away for now. Terrors are okay, but anything bigger needs to stay clear. I want our new livestock to be as comfortable around dragons as our flocks and herds were back in the Archipelago, but it’s going to take time.” Toothless whined and pouted from his spot behind Hiccup, and he saw Merida flinch out of the corner of his eye.

“Toothless, why don’t you go see what Disa’s up to?” Hiccup suggested, looking up at the underside of his best friend’s jaw. “Give poor Ruffnut a break—she looked ready to dismember me when I asked her to watch the hatchling this morning.”

Toothless grumbled halfheartedly as he wandered off, and for a moment Hiccup felt bad about sending his best friend away. But as he surreptitiously watched Merida relax more the further away Toothless went, he decided that making sure the daughter of his most important ally was comfortable was slightly more important. He’d make it up to the dragon later. He fixed a grin on his face and turned to face the princess fully.

“So, who do I talk to about starting a farm around here?”

Merida laughed, and led him over to a group of men.

Hiccup spent a wonderful two hours picking the brains of the “crofters” about various farming methods, while Merida watched on in confusion and poorly disguised shock. When he had exhausted his own knowledge, he called over the members of the tribe who had actual farming experience, and anyone interested in learning. He had a working knowledge, but Berk was just far north enough that most actual attempts at making things grow had ended in indigestion, so he was happy to let people who knew what they were doing and actually interested in doing it take over.

“Ah didn’t realize that ye Vikin’s were crofters, too,” Merida remarked quietly as they watched a fierce debate between Axel the Giant (formerly of the Murderous Mashers of Hopeless) and one of the Scottish farmers.

Hiccup shrugged. “Vikings gotta eat, just like everyone else,” he replied. “Granted, we’re not huge on vegetables, because anything we tried to grow back in the Archipelago had to survive being frozen in the ground for six to nine months out of the year, but we got by. Helped that we managed to get the dragons to quit stealing our livestock. For a year or so afterward we had more sheep than we knew what to do with, until my friends and I invented dragon racing.”

“Dragon… racing?” Merida asked.

Hiccup grinned. “I’m pretty sure Mom’s got your tent all sorted, so if you’ll follow me…”

He led the princess through the camp, chattering about dragon racing and how it worked. They strolled to towards the center square, stopping in front of a tent with a round wooden shield hanging above the front flaps. The shield had been a gift from the tribe itself, presented shortly after the visit of the DunBroch party. It was a single solid disk of pine wood, still ringed with the original bark, and decorated with Night Furies dancing around the knot work of the hub. The boy who had done the decoration, an orphan from the former Hysteric Howler Tribe, had drawn the intricate designs of the hub and the Night Furies with the tip of his dagger, heated by his Terrible Terror’s flame, so that the artwork was burned into the wood.

“So, here’s mine,” Hiccup said, gesturing to the tent. “I’m guessing yours is that one right there.” He pointed to the tent beside his, flying a blue pennant from a pole affixed to the front peak. “How long are you planning on staying?”

“Just a few days, Ah don’t wish to impose on ye,” Merida replied, striding over to her tent and peeking into it through the tied-back flaps.

“Merida, you’re not imposing—you’re our ambassador from DunBroch, it’s kind of expected for you to hang around for a while,” Hiccup explained, raising an eyebrow.

The princess smiled sheepishly. “Aye, Ah ken,” she said quietly. “’Tis just… Ah’ve not spent more than a few days away from home before. Ah’m not used to it.”

Hiccup smiled, ambling over to stand beside the woman, only a year or so younger than him. “I get it,” he said quietly. “Before we made peace with the dragons, my dad would never let me leave Berk for more than a day or two. Afterwards, Toothless and I were constantly traveling all over the place. The first time I spent more than a few nights away from home, I got really homesick, but Toothless helped me feel better. I want this to be your home away from home, Merida. If there’s anything I or the rest of the tribe can do to help you feel that way, please let us know.”

“Thank ye, Hiccup,” Merida whispered with a tiny smile.

“Here, why don’t you go inside, check things out, maybe take a nap or something,” Hiccup babbled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’d tell you we’ve got a huge feast planned for your arrival and appointment, but I’d be lying, since we had no idea you were coming at all. We’ll do that tomorrow, introduce you to the tribe and all that, but tonight, why don’t you have supper with me and my family? Just a quiet meal to help you get settled.”

Merida’s smile grew slightly bigger. “That sounds just lovely, Hiccup,” she said. “Ah should change for dinner, then?”

Hiccup blinked, a bit baffled. “Why? You look fine.” And she did. Her deep green dress was a bit dusty and wrinkled, and the hem was a bit stained, but otherwise she didn’t look any more tired and dirty than anyone else around.

Merida looked down at herself, then cocked an eyebrow at Hiccup. “’Tis kind of ye to say,” she replied. “Are ye sure?”

Hiccup nodded. “It’s just supper at the end of the day. Mom’ll probably be covered in dragon spit and soot, and Disa and Toothless will be covered in whatever they’ve gotten up to this afternoon, and I’m usually covered in forge-grime. You’ll be the cleanest person there.”

Merida laughed, and Hiccup grinned in satisfaction. “Mom would have collected all of your personal stuff from your caravan, so you should be good to go,” he said. “Let us know right away if you need anything. Me or Mom will get you for supper in a few hours.”

“Thank ye, Chief Haddock,” Merida said with a nod and a smile.

“You’re welcome, Ambassador Fergusdottir,” Hiccup replied, returning the nod and smile with his own.

* * *

 

Merida turned and climbed up the log steps into her tent. She’d been surprised to see that all of the tents in the camp were now built on top of wooden platforms, providing a solid, dry floor, and was doubly surprised to find that hers was no exception, despite the short notice given about its construction. The floor was sanded until silky smooth, and Merida stripped off her boots and left them by the entrance, wanting to check for splinters. Her finely knit stockings didn’t snag on a single board.

The novelty of an actual floor in a tent quickly wore off, and Merida investigated her new quarters more closely. The tent was about half the size of her bedchamber at home, but by no means cramped. A bedroll lay on a low platform in the back corner, opposite a large wooden chest that Merida recognized as the one containing her possessions. A large stone dish sat in the center of the floor, containing a small but cheerful fire. A table and two chairs stood in the corner diagonally from the bed, laid with a jug and a cup, both carved from wood and sanded to silky smoothness. Merida picked up the jug and sniffed it, expecting wine or mead or ale, but smelling nothing. She spilled a bit on her fingers, and realized the liquid was water. Feeling a bit silly, she poured some water into the cup and sipped at it as she continued looking around.

Across from the table was a small, three-legged stand with a large stone bowl and a wooden jug upon it. Merida easily recognized a washstand when she saw it, even one as basic and rustic as this, and she quickly determined that the larger, less refined jug contained a large amount of water. Happy to have an opportunity to wash her face, Merida quickly went to her chest and took out a cloth. A splash and a scrub later, and she felt quite refreshed. The stand had a rather handy hook carved into the tabletop, and she hung her cloth from it to dry, and picked up the deceptively light stone bowl to dump the wastewater out.

That done, she took her hairbrush and comb from her chest, and set to work on getting the dust out of her hair.

“I see you’re makin’ yourself at home, Princess,” a woman’s voice called out.

Startled, Merida yanked a bit harder than she meant to, and the handle on her hairbrush broke, leaving the head embedded in her hair. Face burning, and biting back a few choice words, she turned to the speaker.

And immediately wished the earth would swallow her up, since the woman standing just before her front step was Lady Haddock.

The older woman smiled sympathetically, hefting the large, roughly hewn bucket in her arms a bit higher on her hip. “My apologies, Princess, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said kindly. “Do you need a hand?”

Merida bit her lip. She hadn’t really had much of a chance to get to know Lady Haddock on her last visit—the Chief’s mother was usually with her granddaughter, or busy elsewhere, and the Scots hadn’t stayed for very long. Despite the embarrassment, she thought that this might be a prime opportunity.

“Ah’d much appreciate that, mah Lady, if yer not too busy,” Merida replied.

“Not at all, Princess,” Lady Haddock said, placing her bucket beside Merida’s washstand. “I was just gatherin’ some Monstrous Nightmare saliva for the lamps. It’s not dark yet, so it can wait.”

“Excuse me… did ye say _Monstrous Nightmare saliva_?” Merida asked, wincing as her voice went a bit shrill. Lady Haddock blinked at her, looking rather similar to her son.

“Aye, Princess,” she said. “Monstrous Nightmare saliva is very flammable, and when you put a wick in it, provides quite a steady light. It’s easier to gather the saliva than it is to make candles, especially in a situation like this. Now, do you have another brush?”

“No, this is th’ only one Ah brought,” Merida replied with a sigh. Lady Haddock stepped behind her and gently extricated the brush head from Merida’s hair.

“I’m sorry, Princess, but I think this brush has seen its last day,” she said, handing the head to Merida, who looked at it and winced. The head had snapped clean off, despite the brush previously having been made from a single piece of wood. “If you have a comb, I can help you comb your hair out.”

“Ah do, an’ thank ye kindly, Lady Haddock,” Merida said, holding out the wide-toothed wooden comb.

“Oh, none of that “Lady” stuff now,” Lady Haddock scoffed gently, taking the comb and directing Merida to sit in one of the chairs at the table. “You can call me Valka or Val, dear.”

“Merida, then.” Merida did her best to sit still as Valka gently worked the comb through her hair, starting from the ends and working her way up.

“How are you liking your accommodations, Merida?” The older woman asked.

“Would ye be horribly offended if Ah said that Ah didn’t expect them to be so nice?” Merida asked in return. “Floors, a private fire, an actual bed—it’s so luxurious! Ye did all this in two hours?”

Valka chuckled. “When you and your king left, Hiccup went on a bit of an inventing spree—he designed these platforms for our tents, to help everyone be more comfortable as they wait for their turn tae build their hall. The woodworkers made so many of these they could probably do it in their sleep, and put this one together in less than an hour. After that, we had some surplus furniture and such just standing around, unused, so we gathered it up and placed it here. If you have a blanket or tapestries you wish to use or put up, please feel free to do so. We want you tae feel at home here.”

“Ah will, thank ye,” Merida said, already composing a list of things she was going to bring back from DunBroch. “So, tell me a bit yerself an’ yer family. Yer Chief Haddock’s mum, right?”

“Aye,” Valka replied, gently detangling a knot with her fingers. “I was very young when I married Hiccup’s father—sixteen, whereas my girlfriends all married at eighteen or older. My husband, Stoick, was bein’ groomed by his father to take over the chiefship, and our families arranged the marriage in order to ensure that th’ Haddock line would continue. Stoick’s father died soon after our wedding, an’ before we knew it, Stoick was Chief of our tribe, th’ Hairy Hooligans. Hiccup was born in th’ dead of winter three years later, an’ at th’ end of th’ harvest season th’ followin’ year, I was abducted from Berk by attackin’ dragons.”

“What!?” Merida jerked, and yelped when her hair snagged on the comb.

Valka chuckled, and carefully detangled the comb as she explained. “Cloudjumper, my soul-brother, had broken into our hall during an attack. He was playing with Hiccup—very innocently, I might add, they seemed rather enamored of each other—when I burst in and grabbed th’ nearest sword. Cloudjumper didn’t attack me, even when I pointed th’ sword at him. It wasn’t until Stoick burst in and whacked him on th’ nose that Cloudjumper grew aggressive again, an’ he grabbed me an’ joined th’ rest of th’ dragons in their retreat. He took me to their nest, where I was accepted as a member of th’ flock. I didn’t see Stoick or Hiccup again for twenty years.”

Merida sat still and silent as Valka described the circumstances of her reunion with her husband and adult son, and how Hiccup had come to inherit the Chiefship of their tribe. By the end, she was nearly trembling with the urge to race home to DunBroch and throw her arms around her own father, and when Valka had declared her hair finished, she enveloped the older woman in an enormous hug.

“Thank ye, fer helpin’ with mah hair an’ for tellin’ me about yerself an’ yer family,” she murmured. “An’ Ah’m so sorry for yer loss. Ah cannae imagine loosin’ mah dad like that, or mah husband, if Ah had one.”

“I appreciate that, Merida,” Valka replied, smiling a bit wetly as she gently returned the hug and then pulled away. Taking a moment to compose herself, she grabbed her bucket of dragon spit and hefted it to her hip. “Of course, I lost my Stoick over five years ago now. It still hurts of course, especially when I think aboot how much time I wasted hiding from him and Hiccup, but I’ve had time to come to terms with my loss. These last few weeks, so many of my tribe have lost loved ones, and only now are we able to mourn our fallen brothers and sisters.” Valka sighed, and Merida got the feeling that she was thinking about more recent losses than her husband. “Thank yer gods that you haven’t had to experience that kind of pain, Merida, and please have patience for th’ various forms that pain may take. Th’ longer a person goes without allowing himself to feel that pain, the more severe it becomes, an’ th’ more ferocious th’ expressions of that pain can be.”

“Ah understand,” Merida replied, a shiver of foreboding racing up her spine.

Valka smiled wanly, and turned to leave. “I’ll be back in a while to collect you for supper, Merida. Do you have any foods that make you ill?”

Merida shook her head. “No, Ah don’t,” she answered. “Thank ye again fer yer help, Valka.”

“My pleasure, dear.”

* * *

 

Supper that night was nice, Hiccup decided, once Merida loosened up a bit. The princess had started out almost timid, and had flinched every time Toothless had poked his head over the table to try and sample the meal before being playfully chased away by Disa. However, exposure and copious amounts of a very good mead sent from DunBroch as a gift had warmed the woman up to them considerably, until she was matching Disa belch for belch and teasing Toothless with bits of fish from her plate. Once the meal was over and the dishes had been cleared way, Merida had joined Toothless and Disa on the floor of the tent to play with Disa’s toys. She had laughed out loud when Hiccup had translated the name of Disa’s ragdoll, Birna, as “she-bear”, and had told the rapt Vikings the story of her mother being turned into a bear when she was a teenager.

In exchange, Hiccup had told his favorite stories about dragon training, and the antics he and his friends had gotten up to in their youth. Or, he tried to. Talking about how he and Toothless had met was easy, it was a story he had told countless times, since it was a favorite among the Berkian children. But the moment he got to the part about Astrid cornering them in the cove, his throat closed up, and he cut off mid-word.

_Smells fill his nose, the stench of burning leather and flesh, the sulfurous odors of the various dragon fires. And blood. So much blood…_

“…ight, Hiccup?”

_The question is drowned out by the thunder of noise in his ears, a cacophonous mix of human and dragon screams, the roar of fire and explosions, the sickly singing whistle of harpoons shooting through the air._

“…addy? Amma, Daddy’s face is all white…”

_He can feel the heat of the Dragon Sword on his face, the leather grips of his two swords in his hands, fingers locked like Gronckle-Iron. His entire body trembles with effort and his muscles feel like stone, and it takes so much effort to swing each sword and he wants this nightmare to end, he wants to go home and cuddle with his girls but he can’t because home is gone, these monsters have destroyed it and he wants to BURN THEM ALL—_

His body registered pressure against his back and his front, over his shoulder, and around his waist, warm and firm and soothing. The noise in his ears faded away, driven back by a familiar rumbling purr that vibrated like thunder through his chest. With a blink and a gasp, Hiccup found his vision filled with matte black scales, sweating and trembling and panting like he’d run the length of Alba itself.

“Hiccup? Back with us, love?” Valka’s voice sounded as though it was coming from far away. Hiccup bit back a groan, reality crashing back around him mercilessly. His left leg throbbed at the stump as though it had been amputated just the day before, without any herbs to dull the pain.

“Hiccup? Can ye hear us?” Merida’s voice ground against his nerves like a rough stone against his skin, and Hiccup suddenly realized exactly what had happened—he’d shown his weakness to a foreign diplomat. Undoubtedly, she would take the information straight back to her king, who would be able to use it when he finally decided to kick the Vikings off of his island completely.

Hiccup felt sick.

“Toothless,” he whispered, “Toothless, get me out of here. Please.”

The dragon rumbled in discontent, but gently lowered himself down to allow Hiccup to swing himself up on his back.

“Hiccup?” Valka asked, and he hated himself even more when he realized that her voice was trembling. But he couldn’t answer her without falling apart completely, so he simply plastered himself completely against Toothless’s back, and allowed his friend to help him disappear into the dark night.

* * *

 

Merida felt like one of the triplets had just taken a flying leap off of her stomach. One moment, they had been laughing at some of Hiccup’s childhood antics, and then the next… it was as though the life had simply drained out of the man. Normal, then not. His animated, ruddy face had gone still and white as he’d cut himself off mid-word, and nothing she or Valka had said or done had gotten him to respond to them. Disa had been terrified, and Valka had been torn between trying to get her son to come back to life and comforting her granddaughter. Merida had only been able to sit and watch as Hiccup’s dragon made an odd crooning noise, hooked its huge black head over the man’s shoulder and wrapped its forelimbs around his waist, and started purring like a huge, scaly cat. Hiccup had come back to life with a shuddering gasp, bringing trembling arms to clasp around the dragon’s thick neck. He’d flinched when Merida had spoken, had whispered something to the huge black beast, who had made an odd, almost disappointed sound in response, and then they were gone, bounding off into the night.

A shocked, brittle silence descended upon the tent, and Merida was afraid to be the first one to break it. She’d heard of battle-sickness before, had heard some guards speak of it to each other after Mor’du’s attack when she was small, but she’d never seen it up close before. It was fairly obvious that Hiccup had it, or some form of it, but would the Vikings understand what it was? Would they see at as a sign of weakness?

“Disa, love, time for bed,” Valka declared, finally breaking the awful silence.

“Want Daddy!” The little girl immediately protested, her small face darkening like a storm-cloud.

“Daddy needs some time alone with Toothless, darling,” Valka replied, and Merida was oddly relieved at how matter-of-fact the older woman sounded. “You’ll see him in the morning.”

“Ah best be gettin’ to bed as well,” Merida mumbled. “Thank ye fer yer hospitality, Valka. Good night.”

“Sleep well, Merida,” Valka replied, sending her a small smile.

Merida retreated to her own tent and prepared for sleep without really thinking about it. Despite the turmoil of her mind, she fell asleep quickly, and only awakened when a large group of dragons began shrieking at dawn. The noise was so jarring that she came awake instantly, her sword in her hand, and raced out of the tent thinking that the camp was under attack. It was a bit embarrassing to realize that she’d overreacted, but the few Vikings she’d encountered were quite understanding, explaining that the noise was the Terrible Terrors’ dawn chorus practice. Merida thanked them and went back into her tent to get ready for the day, since she was now far too awake to attempt going back to bed.

She was dressed and working on her hair when she heard a throat clear behind her. She turned and smiled when she saw Hiccup, looking completely exhausted but composed.

“Good mornin’, Hiccup,” she greeted him.

“Good morning, Ambassador,” he replied woodenly. “May I escort you to breakfast?”

“Ah would like that, thank ye,” Merida replied, raising an eyebrow at the Chief’s odd attitude. “Are ye goin’ to introduce me to yer people today?”

“That’s the plan,” Hiccup answered shortly. “I’ve got a lot of Chief stuff to do today, nothing that concerns you or DunBroch, so I figured you could take this day to hang out, mingle, that kind of thing, and we’ll get down to official business tomorrow. Shall we go?”

Merida blinked and felt herself flush at Hiccup’s brusqueness. Trying to cover her confusion, she bustled around her tent, putting her comb away and gathering her new DunBroch tartan arisaid and belt. Laying out the arisaid on the floor of her tent, she quickly pleated it and slipped the belt underneath, laid down and fastened the belt around her waist, and stood, pinning each corner of the top end to the corresponding shoulder of her dress with a small brooch.

“Ready,” she announced, giving her hair a quick shake and ignoring the incredulous eyebrow Hiccup was raising at her.

They made their way through the camp, towards the large open tent Merida remembered from her previous trip. She didn’t remember it being so crowded last time, however—there were people sitting at every table, and standing in every free space available, except in a small area at the very back of the tent, which was empty. Hiccup directed her towards this area, and the noise of the crowd died away as Hiccup stood before them, Toothless slinking out of the shadows to sit primly behind him like an enormous cat.

“Good morning, everyone,” Hiccup began. “Just a quick announcement before we begin the day. For anyone who doesn’t already know, we received some visitors yesterday from our new neighbors to the southeast. Among them is someone who I hope will become a great friend and ally. King Fergus of DunBroch has honored us by appointing his chosen Heir to be his ambassador to our tribe, Princess Merida Fergusdottir of DunBroch. Please welcome her as an honorary member of our tribe. We feast tonight in her honor!”

The enormous crowd burst into cheers, and Merida dropped a quick curtsey, made even quicker by some of the quizzical looks she got. She’d have to have someone explain Viking manners to her so that she didn’t offend anyone.

“Alright everyone, the Ambassador needs her breakfast, and then you can give her a real Archipelago welcome,” Hiccup chided, shooing everyone off. “Ambassador, the firepit in front of the Mead Tent is communal, so you can just go right up and pick what you want. I gotta go do Chief stuff, so I’ll see you later.” With that, he strode off, Toothless falling into step behind him.

Merida sighed. Then she set her jaw, straightened her shoulders, and went over to the firepit. She was handed a rough-hewn wooden bowl and spoon by the little girl tending the flames, and helped herself to oat porridge. She smiled at the dubious expressions on the faces of some of the surrounding Vikings as they poked at the substance with their spoons—she could tell just by the appearance and smell that this particular foodstuff had been prepared by someone from her caravan, as she recognized it from her breakfasts at home, whereas the Vikings had obviously never encountered it before. A little boy, his face and that of his dragon smeared with violently purple juice, offered her a handful of blaeberries from the basket at his feet, which she accepted with a grin. She dropped the handful into her bowl and stirred as she scouted out a place to sit, turning the pale mass purple as the berries burst and mixed in with the porridge.

A table with a small group of fierce-looking women appeared promising, and Merida made her way over and asked if she could sit.

One woman, with long, wild blonde hair and dark blue eyes, looked Merida up and down. “That depends, Princess,” she drawled, producing a dagger from some mysterious place upon her person, “on whether you’re shieldmaiden material.”

Another woman, her black hair in a long, neat plait over her shoulder, rolled pale green eyes. “For the love of Freya, Camicazi, leave the poor thing alone,” she snapped. “She just wants to eat her breakfast, not declare war. Besides, do you really want to see Hiccup’s reaction when he finds out you killed the Ambassador to our only ally?”

“I wouldn’t kill her,” the blonde sulked, cleaning under her fingernails with her dagger.

“As if ye'd be able to get close enough to even try, lassie,” Merida scoffed.

The entire table fell silent, all eyes blinking at Merida in shock. The blonde, Camicazi, turned bright red, while her friend bit her lip.

“Is that a challenge, ginger?” Camicazi hissed, baring her teeth like a threatened cat.

Merida cursed herself for letting her temper get the better of her—she might have been confused about Hiccup’s attitude towards her, and annoyed that her breakfast was getting cold, but that was no excuse for losing her head like that. She could hear her mother scolding her, even as she met Camicazi’s furious gaze with Elinor’s best I-Am-The-Queen sneer. “Ah find myself at loose ends today, if ye take it to be so. Ah would like to eat mah breakfast first, if ye have no objection,” she replied coolly.

Camicazi’s snarl turned into a toothy grin, and she gestured to the empty bench beside her. “By all means, Princess, can’t have you fainting before weapons are even drawn. I’m Camicazi, by the way, former Chieftess of the Bog-Burglar Tribe. That’s Heather, former Chieftess of the Berserker Tribe.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Princess Merida,” the black-haired woman, now identified as Heather, chimed in. “Don’t pay any attention to Cami, there, Boggies are widely known for being completely nuts.”

“Excuse you, whose tribe was called the _Berserkers_?”

Merida ate her breakfast as she listened to the two women bickering. The rest of the women at the table ignored the pair, chatting amongst themselves. Attention drifting, Merida studied her other tablemates as unobtrusively as she could. There seemed to be much more diversity in body type amongst these women than there appeared to be amongst the Viking men, although the most common hair color appeared to be blonde, followed closely by reddish brown, same as the men. Every woman at the table, with the exceptions of Heather and Camicazi, wore a band of leather around their heads, holding back whatever hair wasn’t already woven into plaits or tied into horsetails. Some appeared quite plain, some were multiple strips of leather braided together, and others were decorated with odd stones or metal studs or spikes. They were oddly beautiful, in a barbaric sort of way.

One of the women saw her staring and cocked a slim blonde eyebrow. “See something interesting, Princess?”

Merida flushed. “Ah’m sorry for starin', milady, but yer headband is very interestin', an' a bonnie sight. Did ye make it yerself?”

The woman chuckled. “Call me Burglejot, Princess, formerly of the Bashem-Oiks Tribe. My headband, you said? Why, thank you, I did make it myself.”

“They’re called _kransen_ , Princess,” another woman spoke up. “We wear them to identify ourselves as shieldmaidens.”

“They’re a warning to the menfolk, that if they try anything with us they’re liable to lose a hand,” another voice piped up.

“That’s if we’re feeling generous!”

Much snickering followed that statement, and Merida couldn’t help but join in. A _kransen_ would definitely make courting much easier, especially with the lads from the other clans, who didn’t know her well enough to be wary of her skill as a warrior. Her fellow Heirs had all witnessed her abilities, and had spread tales of her far and wide, but there were always the mutton-heads who shrugged them off, believing them to be tall tales, or worse, believing that they would be the ones to “tame” her.

“But why don’t ye two wear them?” She asked Heather and Camicazi. “Ye said ye were Chieftesses, wouldn’t that mean that ye’re shieldmaidens as well?”

Heather removed the bangs from her eyes with a practiced flick of her head. “I didn’t have a tribe for a very long time, before I was adopted by the Berserker Tribe and appointed Heir. I never needed to wear a _kransen_ , because I never really came into contact with anyone. I didn’t need to wear one with the Berserkers, either, because once a child becomes a certain age, they are trained as a warrior, regardless of sex. Berserker women are shieldmaidens by default.”

“Same with the Bog-Burglars,” Camicazi jumped in. “We were a tribe of women, no men allowed past the age of five. We never needed _kransen_ because we didn’t have any men that needed to be put in their place.”

“That’s fascinatin’,” Merida commented, awed. An entire tribe of no one but women? It boggled the mind!

“You done there, Princess?” Camicazi asked suddenly, gesturing to Merida’s empty bowl. Merida blinked.

“Och, aye,” she said. “Where should Ah put this?”

“Just leave it, the scullers’ll pick it up,” the blonde said dismissively, waving a hand. “You got weapons?”

“Aye, Ah do.” Merida stood and brushed off her dress. “In mah tent. Ah’ve mah bow, sword, an’ some dirks.”

“Dirks?” Camicazi asked, gesturing for Merida to lead the way.

“Fightin’ knives,” Merida clarified, leading Camicazi out of the Mead Tent, followed by Heather and what appeared to be the entire table’s occupants.

“Oh, daggers,” Camicazi said. “Any good with those?”

“Fair enough, though Ah’m mainly an archer.”

The entire cluster of women followed Merida to her tent, but only Heather and Camicazi followed her inside, Heather seating herself primly on one of the chairs, while Camicazi sprawled indolently on Merida’s bed.

“Bit dull compared to what you’re used to, eh Princess?” Camicazi drawled.

“Chill out, Cami, she hasn’t even been here a day,” Heather sighed.

Merida snorted. “Ah appreciate th’ concern for mah comfort, lassie,” she said, undoing her arisaid and tossing it on her bed beside the blonde. The brooches she placed on the table, rolling her shoulders to relieve the pressure of the pieces of jewelry.

“What in Odin’s name is this? You Scots wear blankets on your backs?” Camicazi blurted out, holding up the arisaid.

“At least she’s wearing something under it, unlike the men,” Heather pointed out, wrinkling her nose. “Do they even have undergarments on?”

Merida shrugged as she dug through her chest of belongings for her weapons. “No, they don’t,” she replied simply. “’Tis not their way. Ah dinnae ken why—mah mum wouldn’t answer me when Ah asked her. Mah brothers say that they like th’ breeze.” She found her dirks, a pair of simple, single-edged knives with blades longer than her hand. She also pulled out her sword and bow, both custom made for her on her father’s orders for her twentieth birthday. She turned back to her companions, whose expressions of wide-eyed envy were quite satisfying.

“Thor’s hammer, that’s some very pretty blades you got there, Princess,” Camicazi cooed, coming up close and practically caressing the shining metal. “I didn’t realize that you Scots had Gronckle-Iron! Does Hiccup know?”

“What’s Gronckle-Iron?” Merida asked, placing her weapons on the table in front of Heather. The black-haired woman grabbed one of the dirks, going over it with a critical, expert eye.

“It’s a special metal smelted in the belly of a Gronckle,” Camicazi explained. “Fishlegs can explain better than me, he and his dragon discovered the mixture of ores and minerals that create it. But enough chatting, you’ve got your weapons, let’s go fight!”

Heather and Merida rolled their eyes at each other as Heather handed the knife back and Merida fastened it and its twin to her belt. She also grabbed her quiver and bow, thinking to get some archery in afterwards.

Camicazi was skipping as she led the large group of women (more than Merida remembered seeing at the table at breakfast) away from the main cluster of tents to a shady spot next to the pikewall. The area was fenced in, and the very small children that had appeared as they walked through the camp jumped up to sit upon the top rail, while the rest of the adults climbed over and leaned against it. Heather went over to a clear patch of ground where a large circle had been scratched into the dirt. Taking out her own knife, she deepened the marks until the circle was clearly visible from a fair distance.

“This is our training area,” Camicazi explained, stretching her arms in various positions. Merida copied her, envying the other woman’s sleeveless tunic and comfortable-looking breeches. Merida had developed her own fighting style over the years to accommodate her usual attire, but looking at the shieldmaiden, she felt weighed down and restricted. The shieldmaiden led all of the women in stretches and warm-up exercises, and then Heather took over, herding a group of women over to a far corner and starting them on exercises with staves.

“Well, you ready?” The blonde shieldmaiden asked, smirking as she twirled a wicked-looking knife around her fingers.

Merida returned the smirk and drew her own knife. “Ah was born ready, lassie,” she replied.

“Rules are simple,” Camicazi said, striding over to the circle on the ground. “Spar ends at first blood. Best three out of five wins the fight. If you leave the circle, you forfeit. Any questions?”

“No, seems clear tae me,” Merida replied. She took up a stance across the circle from Camicazi, dirk in her right hand poised before her chest, free left hand guarding her face. The shieldmaiden’s stance was much looser, knife held out at an angle in front of her, free hand loose at her side. An evil-looking smirk played on the blonde’s face, and Merida felt her teeth clench.

A woman easily of a size with Fergus strode to the edge of the circle and held up two beefy arms. “First spar begins on my mark!” She bellowed. “Three… two… one… _FIGHT!_ ”

Camicazi seemed to disappear, and Merida managed to block a strike to her dominant arm more through instinct than conscious thought. She batted the other woman’s blade away and tried for a jab to the ribs, but Camicazi had already sidestepped out of reach, never turning her back on Merida. The aborted strike left her right side open, and Merida cursed as she felt a sharp poke in her right flank.

“First blood! Spar to Camicazi!” The Fergus-sized woman bellowed. The two women separated, and Merida fumed to see the blonde had barely broken a sweat.

After a quick drink of water, the pair returned to their starting positions. This time, the spar lasted a bit longer, but only because Merida could tell that Camicazi was holding back. It made her furious, and she managed to score a thin slice just above the Viking’s right elbow.

“First blood! Spar to Fergusdottir!”

“That’ll teach ye to coddle me like a wee babby,” Merida snarled, flicking the blood off her blade.

“Honey, everyone gets lucky once,” Camicazi replied coolly, but Merida saw the annoyed tick in her eye.

Camicazi took the next spar with a quick jab to Merida’s left forearm, and Merida the one after that with a slash to Camicazi’s ribs. By that point both women were sweating profusely, and the grip of Merida’s dirk was slippery in her grasp.

“Final spar! Winner takes the duel!” The Fergus-woman roared. Merida firmed up her stance, digging the balls of her feet into the hard-packed earth as much as possible. Her hand ached from the death-grip she had on her dirk, and her various injuries stung, but she pushed that all aside as she kept her eyes firmly on her opponent. The noise of the training paddock faded into the background, as the sound of her heartbeat filled Merida’s ears.

_“three… two… one… fight!”_

Merida ducked a lightning-fast jab to her right shoulder and answered with one of her own to Camicazi’s gut which was sidestepped by Camicazi pivoting on her right foot as she switched her grip in a split second and knocked Merida’s dirk away. Merida let the momentum of the blow carry her as she pivoted on her left foot and blocked Camicazi’s incoming stab by sweeping her left forearm across her front and letting the hard bone connect with the inside of the shieldmaiden’s wrist. Camicazi’s hand flew open in reflex, sending the dagger flying to the side, and Merida pressed her advantage and brought her dirk up to jab Camicazi in the belly, only to feel the fiery poke of a jab to her right side.

“Wha…?” Merida gasped, staring down at the blade in Camicazi’s left hand.

“First blood! Spar and duel to Camicazi!”

“First rule of being a shieldmaiden, Princess,” Camicazi panted, wiping her blade on her tunic and sliding it into the sheath hidden in her boot, “always keep a backup weapon handy. Nice disarm, by the way, my hand is numb.” She went to pick up her other dagger, leaving Merida panting and wondering what on earth had just happened.

* * *

The entire camp was buzzing about something when Hiccup and Toothless returned from the fishing trip they’d taken themselves on that morning. It hadn’t really been necessary for the trip to have lasted all day, but Hiccup had needed to get away from the camp for a while, and a fishing trip was a good excuse to do some recon and get the lay of the land past the valley they had settled. Besides, it was instinct for Toothless, as the Alpha, to provide for his nest. Hiccup was just providing the dragon with the opportunity to follow his instincts.

It would’ve been a good excuse if anyone, including Toothless himself, had bought it.

As it was, he hadn’t really given anyone a chance to argue. After introducing Mer—Ambassador Fergusdottir (he was _not_ going to give her any more weapons to use against him, not even his friendship, he _was not_ ) and announcing the feast taking place that evening, he’d told Fishlegs and Thuggory that he and Toothless were going fishing, and that they were in charge for the day. They’d both given him Looks, but hadn’t said anything, and Hiccup took that as assent, and took his leave.

He felt sort of bad for leaving his Second and his Lawspeaker to deal with the no doubt furious princess, but he knew that if he tried to do anything about her while in his current state of mind, there would definitely be a diplomatic incident. Which was the last thing anyone needed, much less his poor, beleaguered people.

So, he and Toothless had flown around for the better part of the day, connecting the maps drawn on scrolls with the physical landscape below, and as the sun began to sink closer toward the horizon, they’d returned to the waters to the west of the camp and filled a few nets with fresh catch. They returned to camp just as the sun touched the edge of the ocean, and after dropping off their catch at the Mead Tent, strolled through the camp toward their tent. Which was how they’d come to realize that the entire camp was buzzing about something that had happened while they were out.

Snippets of conversation were flying everywhere, shocked and excited and awed in a way Hiccup hadn’t heard since the last Archipelago Dragon-Racing Championship finals. Intrigued, he wandered over to a knot of teenage girls who were jabbering enthusiastically, and was immediately spotted.

“Chief Hiccup!” One of them exclaimed, her freckled face lighting up red at the sight of him.

“Chief!” Another girl, whom Hiccup recognized as Nettlebite, grinned broadly at him. “Did you know that Princess Merida’s a shieldmaiden? She and Camicazi fought a duel, and the Princess would’ve won if Camicazi hadn’t had a backup dagger! It was amazing!”

Hiccup blinked. That was not what he’d expected, but he was glad that everyone seemed happy about it. He’d have to hunt down Heather and find out what exactly had happened.

“I didn’t know that the Princess was a shieldmaiden, but it does make sense,” Hiccup replied. “Her father’s the king—she’d need to know some self-defense techniques. You said Camicazi won? The Princess is okay, right?”

“Last we saw, the Princess, Camicazi, and Heather were all in the Mead Tent together,” a third girl reported. “They seemed pretty chummy, so I guess there aren’t any hard feelings.”

“I heard Camicazi plans to offer the Princess honorary membership to the Bog-Burglar’s Sisterhood!” Hissed a fourth girl in giddy excitement.

Hiccup chuckled and left the girls to their gossiping, heading back to his tent to get ready for the feast. As they approached, Toothless suddenly stopped and scented the air.

“What’s up, bud?” Hiccup asked, placing a hand on his Gronckle-Iron sword.

Toothless grumbled in annoyance, but immediately relaxed, letting Hiccup know that while someone was in his tent, it wasn’t anyone Toothless saw as dangerous. Curious, Hiccup entered his tent.

To find Ambassador Fergusdottir seated primly at his table, hands folded neatly in front of her.

Hiccup bit back the urge to curse. Apparently she was going to do the honorable thing and confront him before running back to her father.

“Chief Haddock, Ah’m sorry for th’ intrusion,” she stated, tone even, “but Ah was hopin’ to talk to ye before th’ feast tonight. Ye dinnae mind, do ye?”

Loki blast it, she was going to be reasonable.

“I have nothing to say to you beyond working out the details of the relationship between our peoples, Ambassador,” Hiccup replied flatly, and was gratified to see a flush rise in her cheeks.

“Have Ah done somethin' to offend ye, Hiccup?” She asked, her voice impressively calm. “Ah had thought that we were gettin' along, but yer sudden attitude towards me has me thinkin' otherwise.”

Hiccup said nothing, turning to begin putting his weapons away.

“This is about that episode ye had last night, isn’t it?”

“That does not pertain to anything we might have need to discuss,” Hiccup grated out, putting everything he had into keeping his hands from shaking as he unbuckled his sword-belt.

“On th’ contrary, Ah believe it does.” There was Gronckle-Iron in the Princess’s voice. “Ye dinnae start treatin’ me like ye couldn’t stand th’ sight of me until after that episode. That’s not effective diplomacy, Hiccup. If ye have a problem with me, tell me to mah face, an’ we’ll work it out like th’ adults we’re supposed to be!”

“Who said I have a problem with you?” Hiccup asked, barely avoiding cringing at the weak, defensive response.

“Ye did, when ye dumped me in th’ middle of yer tribe without a “bye-yer-leave” an’ buggered off to where th’ Laird only kens!” The Princess growled. “Ah ken now that yer folk are not savages, but Ah was still bloody terrified that Ah was goin’ to insult someone an’ get mahself beaten to a pulp!”

This woman could have given Snotlout lessons in exaggeration. “Nobody would’ve done that.” He knew that was exactly the wrong thing to say when he turned to find her face redder than a Monstrous Nightmare.

“That’s not th’ _bloody point!”_ The Princess exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. “Th’ point is that ye’re allowin’ yer personal issues to get in th’ way of yer duties! Ah looked for ye after takin’ mah leave of Camicazi an’ Heather, but ye were nowhere to be found! Ah had to ask Lord Ingermann if he kent where ye were, an’ he told me that ye took yer dragon _fishin’!”_ She dug her fingers into her mane of flaming hair, closed her eyes, and took a few deep breaths. The flush receded from her face, and when she opened her eyes again, her gaze was direct, but also… concerned?

“Hiccup, whatever yer thinkin’ Ah might do in response to yer episode last night, Ah promise Ah won’t,” she said softly. “Ye don’t have to avoid me to protect yerself. Ah’m a foreign dignitary, aye, but Ah want to be yer friend, as well. Just bloody _talk_ to me, an’ we can work things out.”

For a split second, the Princess’s wild red hair turned golden and sleek, and Hiccup had to grit his teeth against the vision of Astrid pinning him with one of her _“I love you but you’re the biggest idiot in the entire Archipelago and here’s why”_ looks. Closing his eyes and turning away, he ground out, “There’s nothing to work out.”

The Princess made a noise like an angry Terror, and threw up her hands. A string of incomprehensible words erupted from her mouth, and all at once Hiccup felt something that had been cracked since the previous night completely shatter inside him.

 _“Gods damn it!”_ He roared, throwing his breastplate at the weapons rack in the corner and exalting in the mighty crash that sounded when the rack toppled over. “What right do you have to interrogate me? May I remind you, _Princess_ Merida, that I am the lawfully elected Chief of the tribe in whose territory you currently stand? If you continue to dig into matters that have no bearing on you, your duties, your King, or your Kingdom, I can and will have you removed from this camp and escorted back to your lands, where you will have to explain to your King why he needs to send an ambassador who will mind their own gods-damned business if he wants to have any kind of positive relationship with me and my tribe!”

The Princess’s eyes were wide as he shouted at her, but she didn’t back away. Instead, she balled her fists and stepped forward, and for a moment Hiccup thought she was going to take a swing at him.

“I thought Vikin’s were many things, _Chief_ Haddock, but I never imagined that they could be as intelligent as ye and still completely _bloody gormless!”_ She shouted right back. “Ye don’t like me tryin' to make sure mah new mate has th' support he needs after a bloody terrifyin' experience? Braw, send me back! Excuse me for wantin' to help! But no, th' great Vikin' Chief Hiccup Haddock th' Innovator is so bloody terrified of his own feelin’s that he turns an' runs like a great bloody _coward!”_

All at once the burning swell of rage receded, and Hiccup staggered with the rapidity of the retreat. Toothless immediately caught him, and he rested his forehead on the dragon’s own. “You’re right,” he sighed.

* * *

 “You’re right.”

Merida barely heard the soft words over the blood rushing in her ears, and she forced herself to take some deep breaths as Toothless helped Hiccup into a chair. The beast laid his broad head in his master’s lap, and purred as the man stroked his head.

“You’re absolutely right, Ambassador,” he continued, staring down at his dragon. “I am a coward. For over three hundred years, the Hairy Hooligans have defended our island from everything that threatened it—Romans, raiders, dragons, everything. Toothless and I drove off the single biggest dragon to come ashore in our tribe’s recorded history. But… but we couldn’t do it this time. I ordered my people to abandon our home. We’ve lost over ninety percent of our population, and we’re living on the _pity_ of a foreign king, all because I was a coward and decided to _run_.”

Merida bit her lip as she listened to his flat, broken tone. She wanted so desperately to hug him, but she didn’t dare, not wanting to make things worse by encroaching on his personal space. She grabbed the other chair and brought it as close as she could, and laid a gentle hand on his arm.

“Hiccup, mah dad doesn’t pity ye,” she said quietly. “Ah’m so, so sorry for yer losses, but ye did the right thing. Ye saved so many lives, retreating th’ way ye did, an’ that’s more important than any honor ye may have lost in doin’ so. Dad understands that, an’ he admires ye for it. It takes a strong warrior, a strong _man_ , to do that. Anyone who says differently hasn’t got any business leading folk.”

Hiccup sighed, and then chuckled wetly. “Astrid would’ve liked you,” he mumbled.

It hit Merida like a lightning bolt—Hiccup wasn’t just mourning the loss of his land and his people, he was _in mourning_. Suddenly Valka’s words the previous day made perfect, horrible sense, and Merida felt her heart cleave in two in sympathy.

“Ah’m sorry,” she whispered. “Ah’m so, so sorry, Hiccup. Ah shouldn’t have pushed like Ah did, Ah was just… Ah was worried. Ye ran off last night an’ then ye were actin’ so strange this morn, Ah just wanted to make sure ye were alright, that Ah hadn’t offended ye somehow. Please forgive me.”

Hiccup chuckled again and wiped his eyes. “If you can forgive me for nearly throwing away what promises to be a pretty interesting friendship,” he said, smiling crookedly at Merida. “I haven’t been put in my place like that since Disa nearly got adopted by a clutch of Whispering Death hatchlings and their mother while I was distracted from watching her. Got yelled at by Astrid _and_ Toothless.”

“As well ye should’ve been, ye numpty,” Merida replied tartly, lightly slapping Hiccup’s arm. “Goddess above, Ah might just be turnin’ into mah mother, but just th’ name ‘Whisperin’ Death’ doesn’t sound like anythin’ Ah want a wee tiny lassie anywhere near!”

Hiccup laughed heartily, and even Toothless displayed a ridiculous gummy grin. “And you’d be absolutely right, Princess! Whispering Deaths are some of the nastiest dragons around, but thankfully they’re pretty rare. I don’t think any from around Berk followed us down here. But Astrid and Toothless sure did tear me a new one that day, and Toothless refused to let me near Disa for a week.”

“Sounds like ye got let off easy then, to me,” Merida remarked, smirking. “If mah dad had let anythin’ like that happen to me or mah brothers, Mum would’ve had him sleepin’ in th’ stables for a month, king or not.”

“Sounds like your mom and mine would get along like a Zippleback explosion.” Hiccup gave Toothless one last vigorous scritching between the eyes, then shoved him away playfully, resulting in an offended growl and a smack upside the head from the dragon’s whipping tail as he stalked off.

“Love you too, you useless reptile!” The man called after him.

“‘Tis getting’ on, an’ Ah need to get ready for th’ feast tonight,” Merida declared, rising from her chair and dusting off her skirt. “Can Ah expect an escort from ye, Chief Hiccup?”

Hiccup grinned crookedly again, and rubbed the back of his head. “Of course, Ambassador Merida, if you don’t mind being seen with a—what was the word? Oh, yeah—a numpty?”

Merida grinned back. “If Ah minded that, m’Lord Chief, Ah’d never be seen in public with mah own brothers!” She strode to the door of the tent, which Toothless held open with his tail and his silly gummy grin. “Ah shall see ye presently, and thank ye, m’Lord Dragon.”

Toothless trilled musically at her, and she strode off to her own tent with a broad grin on her face.

* * *

Four weeks later, Merida stood before her parents as an ambassador reporting to her sovereigns, in the center of the Great Hall of DunBroch. On her forehead she wore a brand new braided leather kransen, a gift from her new sister shield-maidens, presented to her without ceremony that morning by Camicazi throwing it at her head as she walked by. Heather had helped her fasten it, grumbling about “ridiculous bog-dwelling thieves without a lick of the sense Freya gave sheep” the entire time. Ruffnut Ingermann, whom Merida had gotten to know through her contact with the woman’s husband Fishlegs, had sent Merida off in her own ridiculous fashion by tackling the Scot to the ground and rubbing her face in the dirt, only letting up when Merida had broken her hold with a wrestling move Ruff herself had taught her only the previous day. Ruff had laughed as the tables were turned on her, punching Merida’s arm in camaraderie after the princess had released her.

“When you get back I’ll teach you a proper headlock,” the younger woman had promised in her deep, raspy voice.

Merida couldn’t wait.

“Yer Majesty, Ah am pleased to report that Chief Hiccup an’ his advisors, with the consent of the folk of the tribe, have decided to name their settlement Drekstadr, an’ are in th’ process of buildin’ a permanent colony there,” Merida announced happily.

“That’s an interestin’ name they’ve chosen,” Elinor remarked, raising an eyebrow. “Not any language Ah’ve heard before.”

“‘Tis th’ ancient tongue of their homeland, Yer Majesty,” Merida explained. “According to Chief Hiccup, it means ‘dragon-dwelling’. When Ah left them, they were in th’ process of choosin’ a name for th’ tribe itself. Chief Hiccup has promised to inform me of their decision within a fortnight.”

“Th’ fields have sprouted, an’ it looks like th’ tribe is going to enjoy a bonny harvest,” Merida continued. “Chief Hiccup has requested of me to extend to Yer Majesties and th’ rest of th’ Royal Family an invitation to visit Drekstadr at the beginning of the harvest as his personal guests. His personal residence hall is complete, and he has promised to have the DunBroch Embassy hall complete by summer’s end.”

Fergus and Elinor glanced at each other, and Merida was envious of their ability to have entire conversations with only looks.

“Tell Chief Hiccup that we would be honored to call upon him an’ his folk at his earliest convenience,” Elinor declared.

“Of course, Yer Majesty,” Merida replied, bowing her head.

“Anything else to report, Ambassador?” Fergus asked.

“That’s everythin’ Ah have, Yer Majesty,” Merida replied. She dipped into a curtsy, bowing her head.

“Excellent! Well done, Merida,” Elinor praised with a wide smile. “Now, ye must be completely spent from yer journey, so ye’re dismissed to rest.”

“Aye, lass, off ye go, ye look dead on yer feet,” Fergus added with a grin. “Ah’m sure th’ court can wait ‘til morn for yer incredible tales of dragon wranglin’ an’ whatnot.”

“Thank ye, Yer Majesties,” Merida said, and with one last curtsy, headed off to her chambers, relieved that her official report was over.

After a hot bath and a nice supper, Merida snuggled down into bed with a copy of the Book of Dragons that Fishlegs had made for her. Once she had spent some real time with Toothless and the other tribe dragons, her nervousness of the beasts had faded completely, and she was determined to learn everything she could about them. She was especially taken with the Terrible Terrors, and was planning on adding a roost to the castle so that she could keep a flock of Air-Mail Terrors for royal use. If that worked out, she was going to introduce them to the other clans as well.

A knock sounded at her chamber door, and Merida absently called out “Enter!”, too focused on deciphering Fishlegs’s cramped runes.

“What on Earth are ye readin’, lass?” Her mother’s voice pulled Merida out of the Book, the tone curious and slightly teasing.

“Lord Fishlegs made me a copy of his tribe’s Book of Dragons, Mum,” Merida explained, showing her the page she was reading. “He an’ Chief Hiccup have been workin’ on it since they were th’ triplets’ age, but th’ text itself is hundreds of years old. Fish copied this for me, including th’ edits he an’ Hiccup have made over th’ years.”

Elinor delicately brushed her fingertips over the charcoal drawing of Toothless’s head and upper neck, smiling at the gormless expression on the Night Fury’s face.

“So this is th’ great black beast of which yer father is so enamored,” she commented, settling herself on the edge of Merida’s bed.

“Aye, that’s Toothless, Hiccup’s partner and his best mate,” Merida explained. “He’s one of th’ canniest beings Ah’ve ever met—but he’s also a giant scaly pussycat with wings. He looks after all th’ other dragons in the village, and fusses o’er Hiccup to no end. He also dotes on Hiccup’s wee lassie like she’s his own hatchling. ‘Tis rather sweet to watch, honestly.”

Something like surprise flickered across Elinor’s face, too fast for Merida to decipher, before the Queen’s expression settled on curiosity. “Are all of Chief Hiccup’s dragons so attentive to their masters?”

“Mum, you cannae say that around Hiccup and his folk,” Merida said gently. “Th’ Vikin’s take quite a dim view of th’ idea that humans are in any way better than or have any kind of power over them. To them, their dragons are partners, members of their families. Toothless is as much Hiccup’s brother as the boys are mine. And honestly, Mum, the dragons aren’t just animals—they’re nearly as canny and intelligent as we are. Even the stupidest of them has at least the sense of a very intelligent hound. They’re nearly people in their own right, and Ah’ll not have anyone treating them as anything less.”

There were tears in Elinor’s eyes, and she smiled wetly at Merida. “Oh darlin’, Ah’m so proud of how much ye’ve grown since takin’ this assignment,” she said softly. “Ah’ll be sure to remember yer words, Ambassador, and ensure that the King hears and obeys them as well.”

“Thank ye, Yer Majesty,” Merida replied, bowing her head. “Mum, Ah need to return to Drekhirth as soon as Ah can. Hiccup needs friends, as many as he can get right now. I told him and Thug that Ah’d be back within a fortnight.”

Elinor sighed. “Ah understand, dear, but at least take a few days to rest before ye go again.”

“Thanks Mum,” Merida said, giving Elinor a strong hug.

* * *

  **Gebo**

**Generosity**

_willingness to give or to share_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello there, AO3! It has been a long time, hasn't it? My deepest apologies to everyone who has been waiting for an update, among many other events in my RL, I got well and truly sidetracked by a new fandom that drove nearly everything else out of my head. There have been points in this specific chapter as well where I got stalled out, but as you can see, it's now finished and posted! Hopefully the rest of the fic won't be nearly as hard to write.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has commented during this unintended hiatus, you guys are rockstars! I will definitely make an effort to keep the accents toned down. Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy!


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